The Colours I Can't Remember
by youpromisedmebroadway
Summary: Kurt lost his sight in an accident when he was 8, and has been living closed off and careful ever since, refusing to join Glee club despite his ache to perform. That is until the new transfer Blaine Anderson joins, and won't take no for an answer.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Kurt lost his sight in an accident that killed his mother when he was 8, and has been living closed off and careful ever since, refusing to join Glee club despite his ache to perform. That is until the new transfer Blaine Anderson joins, and won't take no for an answer.

**Warnings: **Nothing too bad, slight angst, mentions of Kurt's mother's death.

_**A/N: **I really don't know whether to continue this. I have a plot sorted and the next chapter written so I probably will. Prologues :/ They're so damn short._

_Thanks for reading, anyway, and let me know what you think! :)_

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><p>The Colours I Can't Remember<p>

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>Kurt reached his arms out and felt for the locker with Braille along the side. He knew it was here somewhere. <em>Out of French class, turn right, then left after a few seconds, <em>he recited to himself, checking he was going around a corner by swinging his cane in front of him, hearing a resounding thunk against the wall and feeling the cane vibrating against his fingers.

He finally felt the Braille of his locker number under his fingers and fumbled slightly as he found the lock. The corridor was empty, the bell still a couple of minutes from ringing. Being let out early was a privilege Kurt was very thankful for. He didn't fancy being bumped against purposely by oversized jocks, whose idea of a good time was yelling, "Watch where you're going, Hummel!" obviously finding their dim-witted remark hilarious as they ran, laughing down the corridor.

Kurt knew if he could see his torment would be worse. There were a lot of football players who didn't pick on him because he was blind.

_Not that it's decency, _Kurt thought bitterly, _More fear of what other people would say for picking on poor, blind Kurt Hummel._

Placing his French book in his locker, he heard the bell ring shrilly through the school, screaming against his eardrums. He winced, the sound of it and students emptying into the corridor loud against his ears. He didn't have super-enhanced hearing like Noah Puckerman liked to think so, but he was more sensitive to sound without having his sight (and one of the few perks in his life was to walk by whispering groups and say, "Oh I heard that!" and hear them gasp in shock- even if all he could hear was a low mumbling).

Wanting to get out of the busy corridor quickly, Kurt ran his hands down the spines of his text books until he found his chemistry one, and pulled it out, rushing. Thicker than a usual textbook, as it was written entirely in Braille, it was hard for Kurt to keep hold of and it flew out of his hands.

"Crap!" he hissed, hoping someone would pick it up for him. Against any hope. Cursing again, and sliding his glasses back up his nose as they fell down slightly, he carefully lowered to his knees. Random passersby knocked against his shoulders, and he stumbled to the ground fully, banging his knees on the hard floor.

He half-yelled out another swear, splaying out his arms to cushion his fall. He almost yelped in shock as he grabbed someone's trouser leg, and bumped his head into them.

"Oh my God!" he heard someone gasp from above him. "Are you okay? What are you doing down there?" Kurt bit his tongue to stop himself retorting dryly, but more so because of his confusion. He was good at voices, and he did not recognise that one. That and the locker next to him had been unoccupied his whole time at high school.

"I'm fine," he replied. "I'm just looking for-"

"This?" the other voice asked, closer now, as the boy the voice belonged to must have crouched down to Kurt's level. Kurt tried to look in the direction the voice was coming from.

"My Chemistry textbook?"

"Yes, I have it, can't you s- Oh God," the voice cut off, staying completely silent for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He pressed the book towards Kurt's hands, and Kurt took it, standing straight, and attempting to brush himself down.

"It's fine," Kurt said, coldly. "You're new here." He turned from the voice and felt for his locker to close it, and reached out for his cane, which he'd left leant against the wall.

"Here it is," the voice said. "It must have fallen before when everyone was here. I didn't even see it." Kurt reached for it and took it, suddenly noticing the eerie silence surrounding them. Everyone was gone from the corridor, meaning they were all in lesson, and he was going to be late _again_.

"Are you in AP Chemistry now?" the boy asked.

"Yes," Kurt answered, warily.

"Oh, great!" he said, enthusiastically. "Me too! We can walk together!" Kurt turned swiftly, his head looking towards the place the voice was coming from, though the boy wouldn't have seen Kurt's glare, hidden behind his dark glasses.

"I can walk myself," he said bitterly. "I've been at this school for over two years. I can get around without-"

"Hey!" the boy broke in, surprisingly soft. "I know, I know! I was going to ask if you could show me the way- so I don't get lost again." Kurt raised his eyebrows, and felt them knit together, looking towards the boy in confusion, shocked at his response.

No one had ever asked Kurt to show them way.

"Okay..." Kurt answered slowly. "Fine, follow me." He went to turn, and then added, "I'm Kurt by the way."

"Hi Kurt," the voice said brightly. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Blaine."


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: The song Kurt is playing in this chapter is Everyday by Carly Comando. The song is important to the feel of the chapter so if you want to listen the link is: _http[:/] .com[/]watch?v=4-7d14o42Nk

_If anyone would prefer to read this on Scarves and Coffee the link is _http[:/] .net[/] ?uid=4104

_Or on tumblr, my page can be found on my bio page :)_

_(Personally I prefer both these formats compared to and I know quite a few others do too so I thought I'd tell you)_

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

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><p>Blaine hoped he hadn't offended Kurt. He'd seemed very affronted when he'd insinuated that Blaine thought he needed help. But Blaine understood. He understood how independence was a sacred thing, something people fought long and hard for, and never seemed to be able to grasp because there were always some people who'd try to help. When all they were really doing was taking the tiny bits of self-reliance a person had left.<p>

He watched as Kurt walked, swinging his cane lightly, watching out for something to hit. When it smacked against the corner at the end of the corridor, he turned right. He seemed to know exactly where to go, and Blaine smiled, impressed. _He's obviously not someone who will have his independence taken away so easily._

Kurt stopped near a classroom and ran his hand across the wall until he found the door, and guided his fingers softly across something under the door number. Blaine assumed it must be Braille and as soon as Kurt ran his fingers across it, he turned the door handle and stepped in the room. Blaine followed silently.

"Sorry I'm late," Kurt said apologetically. "I was-"

"That's fine, Kurt," the teacher said, almost bored, not looking up from the paper he was marking. Blaine saw the class was already scribbling notes down. Kurt made his way to the back of the classroom, slightly huffily and, as he turned to pull his stool from under the lab table, Blaine saw the scowl on his face. Something stirred in his chest as he realised Kurt didn't want his loss of sight to be a reason to get away with being late. Blaine watched for a moment as the woman already sat next to Kurt began talking to him and opening a laptop. Kurt nodded and was whispering back.

"Ah, Blaine Anderson, right?" the teacher said, looking up from his paper. "Take a seat and make notes from page 59, please. We're preparing for a practical next lesson." Blaine nodded, skimming his eyes across the room. He looked towards the table where Kurt was sat, before hesitating and taking a seat on the table with a smiling Asian boy, and a brown-haired girl with a determined look on her face.

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><p>Kurt heard the shuffle of a stool being moved and someone sitting down, whispers from voices that were definitely Mike Chang and Rachel Berry, and the soft whisper from a new voice.<p>

He had a nice voice, Kurt decided. A soft, musical ring to it- in that it sounded so bright and happy.

Kurt liked voices, and Blaine's was one of the nicest he had heard in a long time. Then again, he didn't get to hear new voices often. Perhaps it was the change that he liked.

When Mrs Rose, the middle-aged woman whose job it was to help Kurt through lessons, said he was finished, he saved his work, and she took the computer off him.

"I'll get this put into Braille for you," she said, as he heard her shuffling around with her bag and computer.

"Thanks," Kurt muttered, not able to prevent the shame he felt. How helpless he was. No matter how hard he pushed for his own independence, he'd never get his work done without someone there to turn his notes into something he could understand.

Except, Mrs Rose was understanding; in his freshman year, she'd offered to walk him to lessons and when he'd asked her not to, she had understood, and began making her own way, meeting him there.

He waited outside the classroom until the bell rang, drumming his cane idly against the wall, humming a mindless tune. When the bell rang, the class filed out, and Kurt waited to hear familiar voices.

"...and if you can sing, I strongly recommend you join Glee club. We're on the way to Regionals in a couple of months and we can always use-"

"Rachel," Kurt cut in, and she went quiet. "You aren't trying to recruit another poor person to join that club of yours, are you?" He heard Rachel sniff indignantly.

"Glee is fun," Rachel insisted. "And if you weren't so stubborn, you'd have joined. You'd actually provide some competition for me. Sorry, Mike," she added. Kurt assumed Mike shrugged, not being able to hear a response.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," Kurt smiled. "But for the billionth time- no, thank you." And although he couldn't see it, he could almost imagine the scowl on Rachel's face. Something similar to the 8-year-old Rachel Berry, her face a little older. If Kurt tried hard enough, he could almost see it.

As they began to walk to lunch, he heard the voice of the person Rachel must have been talking to.

"I'd really like to, actually," the voice said. "Join Glee."

_Blaine._

Kurt almost came to a stop, but managed to carry on, forcing himself not to look behind just so he could hear Blaine's voice better.

Rachel almost squealed and clapped her hands. "You should sit with us!" she exclaimed. "Meet the rest of the club!" Kurt inwardly groaned, and let Rachel, Mike and Blaine take over him, and followed their footsteps and bright chatter.

He guessed that would mean he'd be eating alone. He didn't mind all that much. The noise of the cafeteria, the hustle and bustle, was usually too much for him so he'd bring his own lunch in. During freshman year, he'd sit in the choir room and eat, playing songs on the piano and humming happily. He didn't have any friends to talk to, but he was fine with that.

And then Glee club restarted the previous year and Kurt found his private lunch times becoming less so. A few people would come in, wanting time to practise singing, or playing an instrument. That was how he had gotten to know Rachel Berry a bit more, and became friends with Mercedes Jones and the other Glee club members.

Puckerman often called Kurt their honorary member, because he was there during breaks and lunches, listening to their singing and dancing and to them playing their guitars.

He never joined in though. As badly as he desired- as much as he wanted to desperately sing along with Rachel as she belted out Defying Gravity- he couldn't.

But now it seemed Rachel wanted to eat in the cafeteria, to introduce Blaine to the club, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to go in there.

He hadn't played the piano in a while either.

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><p>The keys beneath his fingers felt smooth and cold, yet so very welcome as he let them play, letting his eyes close, though it made no difference. He missed this. The feel of vibrations on his fingertips, running through his hands, the sound building as he played faster, surrounding him, almost drowning him as the sound increased, feeling like the only thing keeping him afloat was the music itself.<p>

There was that _something _rising up inside him as he played the keys softer. Closing his eyes tighter, willing himself to remember images he hadn't seen for nine years, the soft colours of his mother's hair, her pale skin. He swore he could hear her laugh when he lost himself in the song. Could see her throw her head back, laughing, her long hair falling against her delicate shoulders. And her eyes... her eyes glistening with something he almost had his finger on-

Something moved in the doorway, and shocking him, Kurt smacked his hand on random keys and jerked them away. It was silent.

"I know someone's there! I don't appreciate being spied on!"

"I'm sorry!" the all too familiar voice answered. "I wasn't spying, Kurt, I promise. I only just got here and heard you play." Kurt shifted uncomfortably, closing his arms across his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt snapped. "Shouldn't you be at lunch meeting the Glee club?"

"I met them," Blaine answered, his voice hadn't moved from the place he had been standing before.

"Oh? And what do you think?" Kurt asked, mildly interested.

"They seem nice," he said, and Kurt suppressed a snort, "But for a group of misfits and unpopular kids... they're all quite attractive." Kurt allowed a laugh to escape and smiled in the direction he believed Blaine to be. He heard a small laugh from that direction.

"When I turned around and you weren't there, I asked Mike where you'd gone," he continued, his voice moving slowly as he steadily made his way close. "And he said you usually have lunch here."

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "Sometimes they join me, sometimes they have better things to do," he added in what he hoped was an emotionless voice.

"I thought you might be lonely," Blaine said softly.

"I'm not lonely," Kurt countered sharply. Blaine remained silent and Kurt was under the impression he was looking over him.

"It was beautiful," he finally said, his voice suddenly too close, too near, as Blaine leant against the piano. "What you were playing. It was lovely."

"It was only simple," Kurt said keeping his arms tucked across his chest even though his hand was itching to reach across to the keys.

"I thought it was astounding," Blaine replied, a smile to his voice, and the honesty in it was so present, he sounded so sincere; it forced Kurt to look up at him.

"I'm no Stevie Wonder," he whispered, letting his arms unfold, but not touching the keys. Blaine was quiet, and Kurt once again was under the impression he was being watched. They stayed in silence for a long moment, and Kurt couldn't stop himself from listening to the soft breathing from Blaine. He felt oddly comfortable, which he never usually did in silence.

"Do you know the Lima Bean?" Blaine asked, randomly. Kurt could imagine him, head bent down, looking at the vast blackness of the piano, perhaps studying his reflection without thought, mindlessly letting the question slip.

"Yes, I do," Kurt said.

"Well, would you like to maybe... um... come out for coffee with me?" he asked quite quickly. "After school?" Kurt's breath caught in his throat. He folded his arms again, and shifted himself slightly.

Going out with someone he'd only just met. He didn't know what this boy was actually like, or whether he'd be safe to go out with or if he could trust him.

But he felt like he could trust him. Somewhere, he felt like he could easily spend time with him. That wasn't right though because Kurt never felt like that. Kurt took his time to trust, he didn't let himself make friends so easily because they held so much over him and could turn against him so fast. He certainly couldn't desire to be friends with someone he bumped into only a few hours before.

"I... um... I don't know," Kurt answered, not looking up. "Today?"

"Only... only if you want," Blaine sounded so nervous, it almost broke Kurt's heart. "You don't have to. I just thought that-" he cut off for a second- "I just thought you seemed like a nice guy, Kurt. You seem really cool."

Kurt bit the inside of his lip and cursed himself for feeling sympathy. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said Kurt seemed like a _cool_ person. In fact he didn't think he'd ever been. He was too different, too strange, too _obviously gay_ to ever be considered the cool guy.

And what if Blaine knew this, and was playing a cruel joke on him. He didn't know him. He couldn't see him or whether he wore a letterman's jacket and a cocky grin.

_But that isn't how you see people, Kurt Hummel, _he thought to himself angrily, thinking back to how Blaine's voice sounded. How soft, how honest, and musical and bright and... sincere.

"No... no," Kurt said hurriedly. "I'd love to, actually. I haven't been out for coffee in a while," he said, trying to sound bright. "And you seem like a nice guy too."

"Okay," Blaine laughed, and Kurt could almost feel the relief rolling off him. "So do you want to go there right after school or drop your bags off at home first?"

And, God, he sounded so happy, his voice lighter, breathier, that Kurt smiled in spite of himself.

"Well I need to go home and get something first," Kurt told him. "But we can meet at... half past four?"

"Half four," Blaine agreed.

A large part of Kurt liked to think Blaine was grinning dopily.

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><p><em><strong>AN: First of all, thank you so much for that response! I was not expecting that in the slightest. I woke up to a chocker email inbox! Thank you so much to everyone who favourited or added this story to their story alert, and to everyone who commented. The reviews really do make me feel happy, and got me to give you this chapter today!**_

_**Secondly, this is pretty short compared to some of my other chapters but I think that's how the pace of this story is going to go, and it seemed a good place to finish this part.**_

_**I have exams this month so I'll try to do as much of this as I possibly can. If anyone has any questions, my tumblr ask is always open!**_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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><p>Blaine looked around nervously, hand clutched to the strap of his bag that was still over his shoulder even though he'd sat down over ten minutes before- arriving early so he could see when Kurt arrived. He sipped anxiously from his coffee cup, glancing around once more, before finally taking his bag off. There was no use wallowing in his nerves.<p>

Because he wasn't sure what it was about Kurt, he wouldn't be able to put his finger on it exactly, that made him act so on edge. He couldn't really explain why the boy drew him in, why Blaine was so readily trying to be friends with him.

He had an honest face. That was about as simple as Blaine could explain it. There was that cold glare he'd been on the receiving end of as soon as they'd met, and Blaine had been surprised he'd feel so exposed when he couldn't even see Kurt's eyes. There was that little smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth that sent something fluttering in Blaine's stomach. And that determined look, and yet completely underlined with hidden pain that he saw flit across his features as he had played that song.

Yet for such an honest face, a face that expressed so much, Kurt was incredibly difficult to read.

And that's what Blaine couldn't put his finger on.

He hadn't meant to follow where Kurt had gone, or maybe he had, and only told himself he needed a walk. And then he'd heard that music, and remembered what Mike had said. It drifted down the corridor, slow and beautiful, and he followed it.

When he saw Kurt there, playing, completely lost, completely withdrawn, he'd thought he'd never heard something so deeply painful and yet so stunning. And fully entranced, absolutely losing himself to wherever Kurt was, he'd walked right into the trashcan.

_You can never let a beautiful thing last, can you, Anderson?_

Blaine looked at his watch and sighed, disappointed slightly. It was 4:35 already. _Stop it, it's five minutes, Blaine, he's not that late._

As soon as the thought passed, he heard the main door open, and felt the chilly January cold breeze through the shop. He glanced up, and grinned.

Kurt was stood in the doorway, wrapped up incredibly warm, his cheeks bitten to a soft pink colour from the cold, and his soft brown hair sticking up at all angles. In one hand, he held his cane, loosely at his side and at his other side a golden Labrador, a harness around as Kurt held on. Blaine couldn't help himself from laughing, the excited look in the dog's eyes, or the fact its tail was wagging back and forth, was too adorable to keep his face straight.

"Kurt!" Blaine called, catching his attention. Kurt smiled, but didn't turn his head at the sound of Blaine's voice, and he tentatively moved forward.

"Hey, Blaine," he said, voice raised. Blaine moved to get up and walk to Kurt but something tugged at him to stay. Something telling him Kurt would prefer to do this with only the help of the excitable dog by his side.

"Your dog is lovely," Blaine commented, speaking only to help Kurt recognise where he was. He itched to stand but he was afraid he'd hurt Kurt's pride, like he already seemed to have done twice in only a few hours of knowing him.

The small grin on his face grew a little wider, and he made his final few steps towards Blaine, beginning to move his cane around slightly. It knocked against the empty chair opposite Blaine.

"She is, isn't she? Kurt said, appreciatively, crouching down. "She's such a beautiful girl, aren't you, Patti?" At the sound of her name, she turned her head around and bumped it against Kurt's outstretched hand, and nuzzled into it. "Good girl!" Blaine looked down at them both with a sad smile, playing with the idea of getting down and helping Kurt but, before he had already finished thinking so, Kurt had already managed to pull the harness off. She remained sat, looking up at Kurt expectantly.

"She's expecting a treat, isn't she?" Kurt said in mock exasperation, and Blaine laughed at the looks on both their faces. "Well you'll have to wait, I have to go get _my _coffee, you greedy pup." Blaine forced his coffee down, before he ended up spitting it up in laughter.

Seeing Kurt like this, as if there was nothing different, there with his dog and outside of school, tension having melted around him, was something Blaine had only hoped he'd get to see. Looking more relaxed, his grin came easier and Blaine found it contagious.

"I'll get you one," Blaine stood up, himself relaxing. "I'm getting myself one anyway," he added before Kurt could comment. "What do you want?" Kurt paused, looking slightly off to the side of Blaine.

"I can get my own, honestly," Kurt said, though with no hint of sourness.

"You get the next ones," Blaine laughed. "You aren't getting free coffee out of this." The laughter that escaped Kurt, jovial and carefree, sent warmth up Blaine's spine and he could imagine a sparkle in those eyes hidden beneath the dark glasses.

"Non fat mocha. Grande. Please."

"Coming up," he replied, cheerily, moving towards the counter, throwing his empty cup in the bin as he passed. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably when he glanced over his shoulder and the sight of Kurt reaching out to find his chair greeted him. Maybe he'd appreciate some help. But he would have asked. And no sooner had Blaine considered moving out of line, Kurt had sat down, and began unbuttoning his coat.

When Blaine reached the table, pushing Kurt's coffee cup into his hands, Kurt's dog was looking up at him curiously.

"Hello there," Blaine offered, not sure of the correct way to address Kurt's dog.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" he laughed, ruffling the dog's fur. He carried on running his hand through the soft fur as he sipped at his coffee.

"She is," Blaine agreed, "How old is she?"

"Three- nearly four," Kurt smiled. "She's been looking after me ever since I turned 16, haven't you, baby?" He ruffled her fur again. "I passed my Orientation and Mobility Training years ago," he said turning back to Blaine, "So I was told as soon as I turned 16 I could apply."

"What did you say her name was again?"

"Patti," he replied simply, his hand returning to the table top as the dog in question lay down by his hair.

"As in LuPone?" he certainly didn't miss the way Kurt's eyebrows shot up, his head tilted in slight confusion.

"Yes, actually," he said slowly, causing Blaine to think that Kurt found him bemusing.

"I thought so," he leaned in towards their table slightly, "Did you read her book? Her latest?" The confusion etched on Kurt's features was quickly replaced by a small smile, softening.

"Of course I have! What do you take me for?" He paused for a second, hand curling slightly where it lay on the table. "You know who Patti LuPone is?" the tone of his voice surprised Blaine, the first time it seemed he was asking a question that didn't sound accusatory or disbelieving, but actually... relieved, and hopeful.

"Of course!" Kurt leaned back in his chair again, the hopeful smile now forming into a wide grin. His face crinkled, and Blaine suddenly wished he could see behind his dark glasses do he could see his eyes.

"I haven't met many peopl- um... Boys who know who she is," he said softly.

"I haven't got exactly the same interests as most boys our age, I guess," Blaine said thoughtfully. "I don't think most people would be able to tell that coat is Marc Jacobs, either." Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"You... You recognise it? I'm impressed... It does look like I had you wrong," Kurt smiled. "I thought you wouldn't notice." His fingers of his free hand reached out slightly, to his other arm and stroked the material of the sleeve. Blaine tore his eyes away from the movement and attempted to clear his throat.

"Of course I would! I think I'd notice one when I saw it. I read Vogue, you know?" Kurt's fingers stilled at the hem of his sleeve. He gave a small smile but didn't say anything.

"That must have cost a lot though," Blaine added when the silence was too much for him to take.

"Yes, it did," Kurt finally spoke up, "But we're good bargain shoppers. And this is probably passed a few hands down, but people wear it once and pass it on in fine enough condition," he added with a little shrug.

"We? Who do you go with?" Blaine asked, genuinely interested. He couldn't imagine Kurt alone shopping. No matter how independent he appeared. He'd need someone there to shop for clothes at the very least. "Rachel?"

Taking Blaine completely by surprise, Kurt threw his head back and laughed, and it echoed around the little alcove area they were sat. His face scrunched, still laughing as he turned back to Blaine, he giggled into his coffee before answering Blaine.

"Oh my God, I hear horror stories about how Rachel dresses," Kurt giggled, "She's my friend, but if I went shopping with her, I'd probably come back with multiple sweaters with Bambi on it," he gave a dramatic shudder, and then snorted again into his coffee.

Blaine could feel himself on the verge of laughter but bit it down. "She was wearing an animal sweater today actually-" Kurt sniggered- "I thought it was cute," Blaine defended.

"I bet it was some atrocious shade of maroon," Kurt quipped.

"It was actually," and now Blaine was laughing hard along with Kurt, Blaine trying to stifle them as people turned to look disapprovingly at their sniggers. Kurt, however, couldn't see this, and hadn't even attempted giving up trying to hide his laughter.

"So, who do you go with?" Blaine ventured again; a little while later after Kurt had left and come back with two more coffees.

"Santana Lopez- have you met her?" Kurt said as he sat back down, running his fingers through Patti's fur again.

"Um... yes, actually," Blaine said, but the shock in his voice must have been evident because Kurt raised his eyebrows at him in amusement. Blaine remembered very clearly the judgemental glare of the cheerleader girl as she quickly raked her eyes up and down him in the cafeteria that afternoon.

"What?"

"Well... she's very forward," Blaine offered, not wanting to offend someone whom Kurt was friends with.

"Oh my God," Kurt said, leaning forward, "What did she say?"

"She insulted my bowtie," Blaine answered begrudgingly, absently fixing it from its slightly skewed position. "Then she said that if I wanted to make it at this school, the sure fire way was to... uh... get it on with her or Brittany."

Kurt sighed. "Sounds like Santana. What did you say back?"

"I told them they weren't my type, and then ran away shortly after that."

"That won't deter Santana," Kurt smiled. "She'll pursue you until you finally do."

"Then I guess I'll have to tell her I don't play for her team," he said, almost cautiously. Surely Kurt would have guessed, but Blaine was still careful in how he said it. He didn't miss Kurt's little pause, before quickly continuing to sip his coffee.

"Oh," was his reply.

"I thought I was pretty obvious," Blaine tried to laugh, but he was too worried over what Kurt was thinking, pausing at his coffee again.

"Well, you're not as obvious... as obvious as me," Kurt sighed, waving his hand with the coffee to gesture at himself.

"I don't like to make assumptions," Blaine said, and Kurt gave a small smile in return.

"I've never met another gay guy before," he said quietly. Blaine smiled at Kurt in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but before he remember Kurt couldn't see it, Kurt had already started talking again.

"You should come shopping with Santana and myself sometime. Or maybe just you and me?" Kurt asked tentatively. "If you want."

"I'd love to," Blaine insisted. "Santana is kind of..."

"Intimidating?" Kurt laughed. "You get use to her. She's looked out for me in the past, believe it or not. And she's good at describing clothes to me," he added as if this was the most important detail, gesturing down at his coat.

Blaine looked him over, and agreed. "The colour is nice."**  
><strong>  
>"Well, the shop assistant didn't seem to think I'd care what colour it'd be... You know being blind," Kurt added huffily. "I'm glad Santana was there. She described it all to me. If I'd gone on my own, the shop assistant probably would have given me the grey one," his voice turned sharp at the end, the smile he wore only moments ago replaced by something far more sour.<p>

"The grey would still have looked nice," Blaine added. "You would have been able to pull it off."

"Yes, well, when you spend your whole life seeing nothing but that... If you can even call it a colour, it kind of takes the beauty out of it," he said, hurtfully, and Blaine felt the knots in his stomach tighten.

"I'm sorry," he said looking down at the table, "I didn't mean..." he heard Kurt sigh and looked up.

"I know you didn't, Blaine," he said a lot softer. "I am sorry. I wasn't hurt by what you said. I just... It's hard- I'm not going to lie. Only seeing things in one shade."

Blaine took a moment to look at Kurt. Really look at him. He was well dressed, his dark navy coat standing out against his pale skin. But, he could see from how the coat was unbuttoned that his sweater was red and white, and he wondered briefly if Kurt set out to always wear any other colour but grey.

"Look I'm sorry for bringing that up," Kurt said, slightly exasperated with himself. "I didn't mean it like that or... I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine!" Blaine rushed, "I understand. Perfectly." Kurt gave him a smile, and leaned in a little.

"I haven't always been blind," he told Blaine, and he heard himself inhale sharply. "I just... I wanted to tell you that."

"Oh," Blaine said, dumbly. Did Kurt not want him to ask how he lost his sight? Or was he telling him so he would? He fidgeted slightly, toying with the lid on the cardboard coffee cup, suddenly at a loss for what to say.

If Kurt used to be able to see, why couldn't he anymore? And how dull life must be when everything he used to be able to see was now just a shade of nothing, and all he had to guide himself with was noise. How sad it must be for someone who loves clothes, and piano, and Broadway musicals, that he couldn't see any of it. Blaine found himself looking sadly at Kurt's face, and was surprised to see the other smiling.

"I mean, I can imagine what I am wearing, because I can remember what things look like, as long as I..." he trailed off and Blaine caught a glimpse of what he was doing. It was so subtle. The running of his fingertips over his coat moments before and now running across the top of his cup, and Blaine remembered what he saw in Kurt's locker hours before.

"You like the feel of clothes, don't you?" Blaine asked, "You like the feeling of touching them. Of touching everything really?"

Kurt's fingers stilled on the coffee cup. And he looked towards Blaine.

"It's why you have those materials hanging up in your locker," he added, not asking, but stating it towards him. Kurt nodded slowly.

"You are a perceptive one, aren't you?" Kurt laughed. "Yes, well pictures would be useless wouldn't they?" he said, but there was no bitterness in his tone. "I like the feeling of them, do you... Do you know what I mean? It isn't strange to me."

"I do understand. I think it's a brilliant idea," Blaine told him, the urge to reach out and touch his hand increasing an incredible amount. "You know, you see with your ears and hands."

Kurt's mouth was slightly open, his face lit up with a childish wonder. And Blaine realised a little too late, he was a loss for words.

"It's kind of frightening," Kurt said. "How easily you seem to get me." Blaine tilted his head, and bit his lip, not sure of how to respond.

They sat in silence for a few moments, draining the last of their coffees, until Kurt announced he'd have to set off so he could be home in time for dinner. Blaine watched as Kurt stirred the dozing dog by his side, and put the harness on her, and they walked out the shop. Blaine pulled his collar of this coat tighter around himself and gripped onto his school bag strap, bracing the sudden chill of the winter air.

They walked in silence for a while, Blaine surprised by how much he enjoyed it. The sun was bright in the sky, the air bitingly cold on his gloveless hands, and he could listen to the chirping birds in distant trees when no cars passed on the road. And he actually enjoyed the sound of Kurt walking beside him, and the sound of Patti's hurried footsteps alongside, the dog panting slightly as she walked.

The dog was now cutting across Kurt, as he tried to go right, the opposite direction to where Blaine would be going.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Kurt," Blaine said, and Kurt forced Patti to stop, turning back to look at Blaine.

"Yes, I guess so. It was nice talking to you today. Thanks for the coffee," he smiled towards Blaine.

"You too," he turned to leave, and call another goodbye across his shoulder before he felt something pulling on his elbow.

"Hummel," Kurt said, holding onto Blaine's sleeve. Blaine raised his eyebrows, about to retort. "My last name is Hummel. I thought you should know because I know your name from Chemistry."

Blaine stared a little in shock, slightly taken aback by the forward way of telling him. But Kurt was grinning up at him with that wide smile and he looked adorable, with his hair over his face, he ended up shaking his head and laughing.

"Well it was nice to meet you, Kurt Hummel," he laughed.

"You too, Blaine Anderson," Kurt replied, pulling away, giving a final wave before letting Patti lead him down the opposite sidewalk.

* * *

><p>Meeting at their lockers and walking to class together ended up happening a lot more naturally than expected. The day after their coffee get together (Kurt refused to let himself call it a <em>date<em>) Blaine had hurried over to tell him, in a slightly scared voice, that Santana had cornered him as he'd arrived at school. He'd barely escaped before she ended up crushing him down with questions about his coffee with Kurt the previous day. Kurt hadn't been able to stop laughing until they finally reached their English classroom and even then kept sniggering throughout the lesson, sure he was earning some strange looks from Mrs Rose.

Kurt found he was in most classes with Blaine, with the exception of French and Math, where Blaine was in the more advanced class. _Blind people should not be forced to take a subject which relies solely on diagrams, numbers and formulas, _he thought angrily, after another awful class, chucking his math book in the locker, carelessly.

Blaine began sitting closer to him in some lessons, though careful not to distract him with an adult also sat at the table, but mindlessly chatting about insignificant things going on, and talking about what their assignments were. Their talk by their lockers caused them to run late to lessons a couple of days; once when Kurt was completely enthralled by Blaine describing each and every one of the pictures in his locker, and once when Blaine looked at the different materials hanging up in Kurt's.

Blaine had taken to bringing his own lunch to school, sitting at the piano and laughing along with Kurt while some of the Glee club who had decided to stop by at lunch would sing and jam along with their guitars. Kurt could hear Blaine's carefree laughter and him clapping along to some of the jamming sessions, but he never sang along.

"Aren't you going to get up and join in now you're in the club?" Kurt asked on the first Friday they were in there together.

"I think I'd prefer to sit here with you," Blaine replied, and Kurt could almost imagine the nonchalant shrug, and grin from Blaine. Or he hoped that was what Blaine was doing. He smiled to himself, but there was no kidding himself he didn't want to hear Blaine sing. He loved how Blaine sounded when he was laughing, or humming, or even when he was just talking. Kurt completely absorbed himself in everything Blaine talked about. Because he talked about it so passionately, so enthusiastically, it was easy to lose himself in what Blaine was saying.

Closing his eyes sometimes when Blaine talked, he built a picture of the boy waving his hands, gesturing wildly, his eyes lighting up when his favourite things came up in conversation. People may have said Kurt was just making an image up in his head, but he liked to believe he could imagine what Blaine was like, despite knowing nothing about his appearance other than he had "so much gel in his hair, Kurt, please let me just force his head under the fountain and wash it out!" as Santana had put it, moaning down the phone one night.

They'd fallen into this routine easily, and over the next two weeks, Kurt was beginning to wonder how he'd gotten through his days at school without those chirpy morning greetings from Blaine, a coffee for Kurt in hand from The Lima Bean as he'd passed it on his way to school. Or without Blaine's commentary whispered into his ear on what his other classmates were doing during lesson, or the lunches sat over the piano. Kurt forced down the thoughts, though, telling himself Blaine was a fun person to be around, and his life hadn't changed much at all. Not because of Blaine.

He still found math painful, for instance.

Two weeks after their first coffee "date" Kurt had all but stormed to his locker after math class, and practically attacked the locker door to open it so he could get rid of the offending textbook.

"Happy Monday to you too," Blaine commented dryly, obviously catching the livid look on Kurt's face. Or what Kurt assumed was livid. He felt pretty angry at least.

When Kurt finally opened the locker and threw the book in, he turned his face to Blaine and offered his best stony glare.

"Math is too hard!" he said exasperated. "I don't understand how I'm meant to work it all out when all I can do are sums." He slumped against the lockers, and lifted his glasses up slightly to press his palms into his eyes, frustrated.

"It's not, really," Blaine assured him, "You just need practice. It's a bit more of a challenge for you but _you're Kurt Hummel_," he said, and Kurt could almost hear the smile in his voice, "A little bit of mathematics isn't going to bother you as long as you work at it."

"Blaine, I'm barely scraping a B as it is," Kurt sighed, taking his hands way from his face and folding his arms, glasses falling back over his eyes. "The best colleges will want the best grades and I'm fine in everything else. I'm a straight A student but for this subject! What if they don't accept me because I flunked math?"

"Don't take this personally, but I find it hilarious you think a B is a fail- Okay, okay I'm sorry," he added quickly, as Kurt turned an icy look at him, scowling. "What about I tutor you?" Blaine offered. "I think all you need is a little extra help." Kurt thought it over for a moment, but didn't answer. When he didn't respond, Blaine continued. "We could get your grade up to a B plus definitely, maybe even an A minus. I think you're capable of that." Kurt tilted his head slightly, lost in thought. He _could _do with the extra help.

"You wouldn't mind?" he asked, as they started walking towards their classes.

"Of course not! We could do some at lunch if you want," Blaine told him. "Hide out in the library away from Glee club and learn the quadratic formula!"

"You sound way too happy about that," Kurt said as they turned in different directions for classes. "But fine, that sounds good."

"Brilliant," Blaine called. "It's a date!"

* * *

><p>"This makes no sense," Kurt moaned into the table he currently had his face lying on top of. "Why are there so many letters? Isn't math meant to be about numbers?"<p>

"And the letter's represent numbers," Blaine said, obviously trying to suppress a snort.

"But it's too difficult," Kurt groaned in retort. "I can't imagine how it's laid out- numbers get mixed up in my head. I hardly remember what the formula for a circle's area is, let alone a bunch of letters for this formula." He lifted himself up off the desk, and wafted the paper he was supposed to be writing on. "I mean I don't even know what pi looks like!" he added, annoyed.

"You don't?" Blaine asked his voice turned slightly from amusement to confusion, and Kurt could almost see in his own mind eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking down at him from where he was perched on the end of the table, Kurt's textbook lay out on his lap.

"Well, I've never seen it," Kurt said softly, trying to defend his own stupidity, and he gripped his pencil tighter and scribbled on the closest piece of paper to him, as he heard Blaine shuffle down off the desk, and move around so he was sat by Kurt on his other side. Suddenly, his right side was all too warm, enclosed by Blaine's own body heat, Blaine so close that Kurt could feel a light breath against his cheek.

"Would you like me to show you?" Blaine asked, and before Kurt could ask how or why, he found himself nodding, perhaps distracted by the proximity he and Blaine were in. And before Kurt could tell him to stop, Blaine had leant his arm across and taken Kurt's hand that was holding the pencil in his own, holding it up, and Kurt heard the shuffle of paper. "Follow my movement, okay?"

Kurt nodded again, his throat suddenly dry, the only thing he was registering was what Blaine's hand felt like. It was rougher than his own, but warm, covering his own and Kurt could feel the calloused fingertips against his own smooth skin. Kurt, so focused on the feeling of Blaine's hand, and arm slightly pressed against his own, hadn't even noticed Blaine had almost finished dragging his hand across the page to draw the symbol.

"Did you get that?"

"Um... not really," Kurt admitted. "Could you do it again?" He heard a breathy laugh by his ear and swallowed. Blaine drew again, dragging Kurt's hand against the page, and when he had finished, paused, and drew it again a few times. There was a final pause, and Blaine finally pulled his hand away.

"That is the stupidest thing I have actually ever seen," Kurt said, frowning, and he heard Blaine let out a short laugh from above him. Kurt turned his head up to look in that direction. "Thank you though. That was a really good idea."

The bell rang shrilly through the library before Blaine could reply, and Kurt felt himself feeling disappointed at the end of their lunch hour, even though it had been full of painful algebra.

As they gathered their things, and began to make their way out the library, Blaine tried to organise another time they could study.

"I'd say we could do some tonight but we're being made to stay behind every day to practice for our half time performance at the football game in Glee," Blaine sighed, Kurt catching the sound of him shuffling his books in his arms. Kurt stopped in the corridor to let Blaine gather his stuff up properly.

"That's fine. I know that's important for you guys," Kurt said, hoping he was keeping the slight pang of sadness, and jealousy, out his voice.

"You know, it would be great if you joined," Blaine ventured and Kurt snapped his head up. Blaine was the only one of his friends who hadn't brought it up and... well, now he was.

"I don't want to," Kurt snapped, immediately regretting it once he imagined what Blaine's face would look like in response.

"But why not?" Blaine carried on, Kurt hearing the zip of a bag open, Blaine's voice a bit lower down now as he tried to stuff something in his bag. "Kurt, Rachel's told me you have a great voice- and I'd love to hear it. She said you'd always liked performing in your elementary school plays and-"

"Well, I don't want to anymore," Kurt argued, finding it hard to keep his voice from betraying him. "Why do I have to have this argument with everyone? Why can't you understand that I don't want to join that club!" He realised his voice was too sharp, he was being a bit loud, and now the corridors were emptying, he was more audible to the other passing students.

"Kurt," he heard Blaine say sadly. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean it like that. You know I don't want to upset you but..."

"But that's enough of that," Kurt cut in harshly. "We leave it at that, okay?" There was no response from Blaine for a few seconds and then Kurt heard a muttered, "Fine, I guess." Kurt pulled himself up, fighting not only the disappointment building in his chest, but his own guilt at how snappy at Blaine he was being when all he had done in the two weeks at this school was treat Kurt like he was the single most normal kid there. But it would all be for the best as long as Blaine never brought up Glee Club again.

Kurt hurried a goodbye to Blaine, trying to ignore the numerous images running through his head of the looks he could have on his face; the sadness, or disappointment, or guilt. Kurt felt something twist in his abdomen, and attempted to force his thoughts into something else.

He headed off to French, making sure to avoid his locker for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope it worked out the way I wanted, so please let me know what you thought so I can see! And it's a decent length too, I think. Thank you for all the lovely comments so far!**_

_**Exams over the next two weeks so don't expect any updates then- sorry!**_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know whether Blaine would be back at his locker in the morning with a coffee for him, but feeling it was about time he returned the favour, he'd stopped off at the Lima Bean when Finn drove them to school, and bought one for Blaine. He stood at his locker now patiently waiting, hoping he'd get here soon so his coffee wouldn't get cold.<p>

Maybe he wouldn't come over until Kurt had left, perhaps. After all Kurt had made a good job of avoiding him the day before. He could be upset with Kurt now, seen him at his locker, and left.

"Well someone's suffering from the Tuesday Blues," he heard the familiar voice from his right, and realised how glum he must look, leant against his locker, swirling Blaine's coffee.

"Isn't it the Monday Blues?" Kurt retorted, raising his eyebrows.

"Tuesdays can be blue too," Blaine said, Kurt imagining a little shrug. "I see you've got a coffee already!" he added. "Should I drink this then?"

"Oh no!" Kurt said quickly. "This is for you," he held the coffee out, "The Lima Bean is a bit out of my way on our route to school so we usually can't stop off there. I made an exception today- medium drip, right?" He felt Blaine take the coffee out his hand and replace it with Kurt's.

"Ah, you know my coffee order," he said knowingly.

Kurt's head shot up because for that fleeting moment, he wanted nothing more than to place a face with that voice. He crushed the thought as quickly as it came and tried to smile, ignoring the fact his hand was aching to reach out and hold Blaine's. Just so he could try and imagine them again.

"Thank you, you didn't have to though," he replied at Kurt's smile. "If it was out of your way."

"I wanted to. Consider it my peace offering for my behaviour yesterday," Kurt insisted, taking a sip from his coffee. "Thank you for mine too." There was a pause. Kurt hated these kinds of pauses. There were times when sitting and walking with Blaine in silence was the easiest thing, but when he paused for this long, and Kurt had no idea what he was doing, he felt exposed, on show in front of millions. Even if the only person watching him was just Blaine.

"You had every right, Kurt," Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable." Kurt hoped the smile on his face looked less forced than it felt because how could he have made Blaine feel like this? Made him feel so guilty, even though all he'd done was treat Kurt the way he'd wanted to be treated by everyone else. The last thing Kurt wanted was for Blaine to tread carefully around him, thinking before he spoke.

"Blaine, you didn't," Kurt insisted, "Honestly." There was another pause yet Kurt could hear a very audible slurp of coffee and he relaxed, taking a drink from his own. After a moment he added, "But can we just leave it? That topic?"

"I guess," Blaine said warily, and from his hesitancy Kurt knew this wouldn't be the last he heard of this. The noise of laughter and idle chatter in the corridor was dying down, indicating the bell would ring any moment.

"We should get to class," Kurt said, grabbing his cane from where it was leaning, and they set off down the hall for a moment in silence, Kurt passing his empty cup to Blaine when he asked if he'd finished. He assumed he threw it into the bin as they made their way.

"It's a good job you didn't come to Glee actually," Blaine commented as they sat down in English. Kurt glanced at him quickly, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Finn had come home sulking the night before but he didn't tell him anything, not even when he tried to use warm milk as a way to get coax out information. "The football guys were forced to join up," he carried on, Kurt hearing the shuffle of Blaine's bag as he tried to fish out his English book.

"What?" Kurt hissed, resorting to whispering and leaning over to hear Blaine better as the class quietened down.

"Oh yeah, I really have no idea what's going on," Blaine whispered back to Kurt, "I really did not sign up for this kind of thing. Puck and Rachel sang a song and then before I knew it, everyone was yelling. Santana was going at it in Spanish..."

Kurt suppressed a laugh as Blaine carried on about the Glee club's antics the day before. When he sounded so serious and worried, it wouldn't be right to make a joke out of it. Or laugh that it was a good job all Santana did was yell in Spanish and not get the razor blades out of her hair. He could hear Mrs Rose clearing her throat pointedly, so made to turn towards her, not before whispering back to Blaine, "Well now you're making me feel l should have gone!"

He tried to make it sound like a joke.

Even though really, when Blaine was talking, it had only made Kurt wish he could have.

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't dare bring up Glee Club for the rest of the day. The last thing he wanted was to end up having to think twice before saying things to Kurt. The most important aspect of their relationship was the fact he didn't have to do this. The fact he was blind had hardly come up in conversation since when they first met. Blaine didn't want to have to test the waters for what was okay to say, and what was off limits. And he was pretty sure Kurt didn't want that to happen either.<p>

The problem was, bringing up Glee again would upset Kurt, for reasons unknown to Blaine and apparently the rest of the club.

Blaine mused aloud one practice about Kurt not being in the club, causing the rest of the club to shrug and mumble. Puck and Finn quickly turned back to their instruments not giving it a second thought. Brittany told Blaine Kurt had heard her singing Britney Spears and was too intimidated to join, although Rachel cut in at this point and said if he was intimidated by anyone it would be herself. Santana had completely ignored them and their discussion, instead choosing to sit off to the side and file her nails. Blaine knew if one person would know why Kurt didn't want to join Glee it would be her. But the fact she glared daggers at him whenever he tried to approach her put him off asking.

In all honesty, perhaps the intimidation was the best guess. Sometimes, it was intimidating being a part of this group. There were so many voices, opinions and egos in one small room, Blaine often felt like skulking off to the side with Mike before he got caught up in the middle of it all. And Blaine was someone who loved attention, whose life depended on being on stage and singing. The one time he felt sure of himself, the one time he didn't have to work too hard at fitting in. But the people in this club were like that too. There were less members of the club here than at Dalton, and yet it felt more. This club seemed to be the be all and end all for most of these people, whereas with the Warblers most of them had picked up choir practice as a bit of fun, or for extra credit.

And he knew that Kurt must feel that love for performing too. He just knew it. And for Kurt to stop himself from carrying on what he loved because he was blind... it was unfair. Cruel. Blaine couldn't let Kurt do that. He told himself he didn't know him well enough. That if Santana or Rachel or Finn couldn't get Kurt to join, what chance did he have?

If they'd even tried to get Kurt to join. Or properly at least. Rachel had said she'd asked him occasionally but it seemed to Blaine she did this to most of the people in the school.

In that day's Glee session, Blaine arrived early, sat at the back near the window, clicking his pen absently. The choir room was quiet, and his eyes drifted to the piano. The piano he hadn't seen Kurt play since two weeks previously. But he could remember the look on Kurt's face as he'd played. He could remember how much he could see of Kurt putting everything he had into the song.

Would it be so bad to say he didn't understand? That he couldn't fathom why Kurt refused so adamantly to join? When Kurt seemed to take control of every other aspect of his life, even going as far as continuing piano lessons after his accident so that his blindness wouldn't control him, but he'd let it stop him from singing and dancing.

Accident. Blaine turned the word over in his head. He carried on mulling it over, even as the room started to fill with voices laughing and people moved over to sit around him. Mike pulled up a chair beside him, Tina and Artie sitting next to him, and struck up a conversation about football that Blaine tried to concentrate on.

He hadn't spoken about any kind of accident to Kurt, hadn't asked anyone what this accident was. It didn't feel right to ask someone else, and it didn't seem the right time to talk about something so delicate with Kurt.

The room silenced when the rest of the football team entered. Blaine's stomach in knots, he tried to ignore how he was suddenly digging his pen into his leg. This was what he'd signed up for, coming back to public school.

The football players.

Jeering as they entered, and when one caught his eye he quickly looked away, desperate to avoid any kind of contact with the people who he associated with his old bullies. The people who were tormenting his friends in this group. And mocking the closest friend he'd manage to make at this school; someone who no matter how tall they stood, or tried to take control, couldn't fight back.

Blaine put his pen in his pocket before he dug a hole in his jeans.

* * *

><p>"Ahhh!" Kurt jumped in his seat, heart pounding at the sudden noise from right behind him and looked up. "Ahhh!" He heard again, and the bubbly laughter escaping after the noise gave away who had snuck up to his desk in the library.<p>

"What are you doing?" Blaine was stomping his feet uncoordinatedly, still laughing at how he'd made Kurt jump.

"What does it sound like?" Blaine laughed, followed by more enthusiastic foot stomps.

"I have no idea, but it sounds like very bad dancing," he sighed, closing his textbook. "Is Finn out yet? He's meant to be taking me home." The stomping continued, even as the old librarian at the desk hushed them.

"Not yet, he's still wiping his makeup off," Blaine stage whispered right next to Kurt's ear, the then continuing to shuffle and drag his feet around.

"Make up?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah! Zombie makeup!" Blaine told him, the excitement in his voice bubbling over. "You'll never guess what we're doing for the half time show, Kurt. It's going to be amazing!"

"Hmm... whatever could it be," Kurt mused, pretending to be deep in thought. "Dancing like a zombie. Zombie makeup. Why it wouldn't be Thriller, would it?"

Blaine stopped moving and Kurt grinned smugly, sure that right now Blaine's face had fallen and he was staring at Kurt dumb-founded.

"No!" Blaine laughed, teasingly, dissipating Kurt's image of the crestfallen Blaine. "Well, kind of. We're doing a mash up with Heads Will Roll. But however did you guess?" he asked, a mocking tone in his voice.

"Oh a sixth sense," Kurt replied, equally as mocking, "Not because it isn't the obvious, cliché choice."

Blaine snorted, moving forwards and his arms must have been stuck out stiffly as Kurt felt them brush against his shoulders. "Ahhh,"he called out, and Kurt would have fought back heroically if the old librarian hadn't stormed around to their desk and once again hushed them.

They made their way out after that, Blaine carrying Kurt's textbook, while still shuffling in his zombie like fashion, despite Kurt's harsh laughs at what an idiot Blaine was making of himself. Kurt pushed the ache of the wish he could see what Blaine was doing to the back of his mind. If he started to think that, it would lead to wishing he could see what Blaine looked like, what everyone looked like, what the school looked like, what the town, the sky or the whole God damn world looked like. Everything he was missing out on. Everything he told himself he'd gotten over. Wishing he could see Blaine was pointless. He focused on his voice, on the noise of his staccato movements beside him, the loud laughter echoing through the empty corridor.

For a moment Kurt imagined him throwing his head back, eyes crinkling, just as his own mother had done when she laughed.

He lost himself to the thought for a moment, before he heard what else Blaine was doing, and faltered.

"_But it's too late to say you're sorry,"_ Blaine began to sing, from slightly in front of him, still moving in the same way. _"How would I know, why should I care," _his voice quietened as he moved further down the corridor, Kurt stood in the same spot, looking towards where Blaine was singing. _"Please don't bother tryin' to find her, She's not the-_ Hey, what's the matter?" Footsteps ran up closer to him until he could hear Blaine breathing close by him.

He knew he was being watched, looked over by a now possibly worried Blaine.

"Nothing," Kurt stammered out, trying to continue walking, as if this was the truth. "I just... your voice is nice."

He'd never heard Blaine sing before. And even though he was just messing about, dancing in an empty corridor because he was free to do that, without the rest of the school to cast judging eyes, he still sounded amazing. The enthusiasm as he sang, how he let his bursts of carefree laughter, it had brought Kurt to a stop. Because he could have stood there and listened for a lot longer.

"Oh," Kurt carried on walking, even after hearing the slight shock in Blaine's voice, "Thanks. I mean, I was just fooling around a bit really. We're doing that song tomorrow in Glee." Kurt stiffened slightly at the mention of Glee. But Blaine didn't press further, although he had stopped singing, and didn't say anything to Kurt until they reached his locker.

"You just seemed a bit off," he finally admitted. Kurt tilted his head slightly, as he opened his locker. He felt Blaine lean in and press slightly against him as he put Kurt's book away, the sudden heat against Kurt's chest disappearing as soon as Blaine leaned back.

Kurt swallowed thickly before replying.

"I've never heard you sing before," he was almost too quiet- he knew that- staring down at his feet. "It was... it was really nice."

He wished he could see Blaine's face. He didn't care if it made him long to know what everyone else looked like or the school, or the rest of the world. For that moment, he wanted to see Blaine's little shy smile, or his blush. He wanted to see him react to a compliment. More importantly: he wanted to see him react to a compliment from _him_.

It really didn't seem that much to ask.

Blaine couldn't answer him before they heard Finn calling from down the end of the corridor. Kurt heard a shuffle from the side as Blaine moved away.

"See you tomorrow, Blaine," Kurt smiled.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine replied. "Don't forget your math stuff by the way!" He called as Kurt walked away towards Finn, cane out to guide him. "You aren't getting out of tutor sessions again!" Kurt groaned as Blaine laughed and before he turned the corner with Finn, stuck his tongue out in the direction he hoped Blaine was standing.

* * *

><p>Finn had been fine the day before. Driving home after he'd found Kurt talking to Blaine, he had bantered with Kurt quite happily over how things were going in Glee. How the football players were joining in with the half time show, and seemed to enjoy it, but as he started talking about Sue Sylvester's antics, Kurt felt himself zoning out.<p>

"And Sue's in for a surprise. The girls will choose Glee, I just know it," he rambled on. What exactly the girls had to choose was lost to Kurt, pressing his head against the cold window trying to divert his thoughts from anyone or anything but Blaine.

_Always fall so hard and fast, Hummel, _he thought bitterly, before trying to push it to the back of his mind.

But today, Finn was furious. Returning home late from school because of Glee and football practice, he'd been quiet and distant at dinner until Carole asked him what was wrong, and suddenly he couldn't be shut up.

As soon as he could be excused, leaving Finn still moaning to Burt and Carole in the kitchen, Kurt moved back into his room, slamming the door behind him. Instantly greeted by Patti, he scratched behind her ears, pulling out his phone from his pocket as he did so.

It rang out 6 times before she answered, and he was sure she'd spent that time looking at who was calling and deciding whether it was safe to answer.

"Santana, what's going on?" Kurt hissed down the phone, trying not to let Finn hear him, even though he was still ranting in the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" she replied, sounding rather bored down the other end, or sounding _too_bored.

"I mean why has Finn come home moaning about-"

"But how could they do that, Mom? You agree with me, right?" Finn yelled from the kitchen, and times like these were the times he hated the fact his room was downstairs.

"Finn! Shut up!" Kurt yelled, pulling his phone away from his head.

"Nice one, Hummel," Santana commented dryly as Kurt returned to the phone, even though he could still hear Finn saying something in the other room.

"Stop it, Santana," Kurt snapped. "Finn told us all over dinner what's going on. You're choosing Cheerios over Glee? Santana, you love Glee, why are you doing this?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you're in that club. You refuse to join," she pointed out, and Kurt couldn't pretend that didn't sting. "Besides it's not even that fun-"

"Don't lie to me," Kurt cut in, angrily, "You told me you like singing. You love being in Glee Club. Why don't you just admit that you're scared of what people are thinking?"

"It has nothing to do with that!" Santana shot back, she sighed down the other end of the phone, and there was a long pause, Kurt not wanting to interrupt whatever would come next. "_Kurt,_" she continued faintly softer, "You know the only reason I've been able to look out for you is because of being on the Cheerios. If I wasn't, don't you realise how much worse things would be?"

"Why are you making this about me?" Kurt said, not liking the strangling sound coming from his throat, falling to sit at the end of his bed. "I don't need looking after! Just stay in Gl-"

"Kurt, Sue is making us choose! I can't quit Cheerios, not now," Santana half-yelled and Kurt could hear the desperation there, something she quickly tried to cover up. "Listen, _Kurt,_ being a cheerleader practically makes me untouchable at school. And _you_ _know_- you know it, Kurt- that you do need help and things _would_ be worse."

Kurt stayed silent. His breathing was heavy down the phone, holding the phone tightly in his hand, shaking slightly from the cries he was trying so hard to suppress.

"Kurt, you know I don't mean that you're helpless..." she trailed off, obviously not knowing how to continue. Santana Lopez had never been one for these kinds of moments. And most days, Kurt was thankful for it, and then others, he just wished she'd open up. At least to him.

"I know," he mumbled, sniffing, but then holding his head a little higher. "I know, Santana. We don't have to talk about that, now, okay?"

They stayed silent for a long moment, Kurt listening to the soothing sounds of Santana's breathing down the other end. Pauses on the phone were easier. In the end, the other person was just as oblivious to what the other person was doing, and not just himself. He assumed she was lying down on her bed, so lay down to do the same, pulling his glasses off his face, and throwing them to the side.

"Is puffy nipples still crying?" Santana said after a while.

"Hmm... he's calmed down a bit, I think," Kurt sighed, "You know he just cares about Glee and you guys." Santana snorted, causing Kurt to sit up, "I'm serious, Santana. Just think about what you're doing."

He could hear her huffing on the other end, refusing to reply. If he wasn't careful she'd put the phone down on him, and he hadn't spoken to her- just her- in weeks.

"Do you want me to take you shopping next week?" she said after a pause. He would have flinched at how she worded it, how she said it like it was a chore for her, but Kurt knew Santana Lopez didn't do things that were chores unless she got something out of it. And she wasn't getting anything from this.

He took the little things from this as much as he could.

"I suppose," he replied, standing up, stretching. "Could Blaine come along?" Santana inhaled sharply so Kurt quickly added, "I told him he could come with us some time so I just-"

"Sure, why not?" she spat, "It's not like you don't spend enough time with him already."

"We don't have to invite him," Kurt said, dismally, kicking at the floor. "Sorry." He paused a second and then decided to ask. "Do you not like him?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and it was almost too long. Holding his breath, waiting for her to answer seemed to drag over minutes, but it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds.

"I don't like a lot of people," she sniffed. "He's short and I don't trust short people especially when-"

"Santana..." Kurt started.

"-they wear that much gel too. I don't know what you see in him, because, honestly, does he need to put that much-"

"Santana!" She stopped talking instantly, and Kurt knew she'd suddenly become aware of what she was doing. "Please stop it. I don't want to know what he looks like."

"No... I got that," she said, the apology in her voice, even if she refused to say it. "Not yet?"

Kurt didn't answer. He couldn't. He couldn't explain properly to anyone, sometimes not even himself, why he didn't want to hear what people looked like.

But he didn't want to learn what someone he cared about looked like from a third party, in a passing conversation. And even though most of the time he wished he could see what Blaine looked like, or that he could see his smile, or his eyes, it pulled him back in the end to where he was now. Hopelessly imagining because he'd never have the real thing. He had his own image of Blaine. And he couldn't have that image changed because someone decided to vent their own bitchiness to him.

He tried again to change the topic to make Santana reconsider her decision about Glee club, but she only ended up snapping at him in return, finishing off with a short, "Bye, Hummel," and finally cutting the call off.

He'd have to try talking to her in school tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Kurt was set on talking to Santana it seemed. He'd met Blaine at his locker and demanded he take him to Santana so he could talk to her. When they'd found her by her own locker, Kurt hardly got one word out before she turned and stormed off.<p>

The day before when they had found out Brittany, Santana and Quinn were leaving Glee, Blaine had been confused by their decision, but a lot of the club hadn't seemed shocked. Rachel had merely shrugged and said it was no shock. But to Blaine it was, because he thought they loved Glee.

And then the following drama with the football players quitting happened.

If the rest of them had taken two seconds to stop yelling, Blaine might have been able to tell them all that high school regulations meant they only needed 9 players on the team. In the end, he'd had to raise his voice too, until they listened.

He hadn't expected the girls to all volunteer to play. Or to be dragged in himself. He'd thought more of the school would sign up to join the team, and he wouldn't have to play.

Being at this school was going to get him killed. By six foot three football players in body armour.

He hadn't even had the chance to tell Kurt about what was going on in the football team, or that he was joining, because every time he saw him that day in school, he was asking to be taken to Santana. And every time they found her, she'd turn to leave, glaring at Kurt, even though he couldn't see and had no idea how furious she looked.

It wasn't until the end of the day that Kurt managed to talk to her.

"Santana, will you listen to me for a second!" Kurt called at her, and this time Brittany stopped Santana from taking off, turning her to talk to Kurt. Blaine stood off to the side of the empty corridor. Santana folded her arms and tilted her head, waiting for Kurt to continue. He suddenly seemed so small in the middle of the corridor, clutching his cane in both hands. His head was looking slightly off to the side of Santana, and Blaine swore he could see a flash of guilt in Santana's eyes, before quickly being replaced by a cold expression.

He felt like melting back into the lockers when she glanced up and glowered at him over Kurt's head.

When Kurt and Santana had finished talking, and her and Brittany walked away, Blaine was studying Kurt, who began walking in the opposite direction.

"Little hypocritical, don't you think?" Blaine called after Kurt, pushing himself off the wall to follow him.

Kurt turned his head a little, frowning. "How?"

"You've spent all day trying to get Santana to talk to you, and I had no idea it was to get her to rejoin Glee," Blaine said, folding his arms. Kurt turned his body so he was fully facing Blaine, his head turned up, defensively.

"I don't understand why that's hypocritical," Kurt shot back. And Blaine could see those defences Kurt had had the day they met being put back up. But Blaine didn't want to stop, because he'd just seen Kurt do the same thing to Santana.

"You know why," Blaine took a step closer and watched Kurt's face for a reaction. "You've tried all day to get Santana to go back to Glee, and every time someone asks you to, you won't."

"I don't want to have this conversation with you again," he stuttered on his words slightly, and whispering added, "Why can't you just leave this alone?"

"I can't, Kurt. I can't when I see how sad it makes you. When I see you in the choir room at lunch and I can tell you want to join in." Kurt's face fell, and he looked to his side, away from where he knew Blaine was standing. "Why do you keep trying to tell Santana to rejoin, and refuse to yourself?"

"Because she has nothing holding her back!" Kurt yelled, head shooting up, voice cracking. And Blaine realised the only reason he hadn't run away was because he physically couldn't.

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know what to do; he was stuck, unable to move because how was he meant to storm off when he could just see where he was going? When Blaine was sure to follow him and apologise? Or say something that made no difference no matter how heart felt it was. He was stuck there, not knowing what to do, with Blaine probably looking at him pityingly. Feeling sorry for poor, pathetic, blind Kurt Hummel.<p>

Because that was all he'd ever be known for.

That's why when he felt arms wrap around his waist he stood up straight. And when Blaine tightened them, he stiffened. Kurt didn't know how to respond for a moment, arms hanging to his side limply. He was still holding his cane in one hand, so he dropped it to the floor and after hesitating slightly, wrapped his own arms around Blaine.

Kurt couldn't decide if he was comfortable or not. Blaine was certainly shorter than him, he found as he rested his head against his shoulder. Blaine was offering him something and all Kurt wanted to do was bury his head there, but his glasses would dig awkwardly into his face, so he leant his chin against Blaine's shoulder. He didn't even realise he'd gripped tighter around Blaine's waist. He was a lot slender than Kurt had imagined. He was warm, his own head resting against Kurt's shoulder, his fingers playing with the material of Kurt's shirt. He'd expected pity or an apology but this was something else. He didn't want this to break; he couldn't have this taken away. Not the soft breaths against his neck and definitely not the strong embrace Blaine held him in. He thought, terrified for a second, about jocks turning the corner and seeing the two of them, but even that couldn't give him the strength to pull away and tell Blaine he didn't want this.

"You don't either, Kurt, you know," Blaine whispered into his ear after a couple of minutes, the warm air tickling it slightly.

He stood back a little, bringing some distance between them both.

"Don't what?" he asked, shivering slightly at the loss of contact, Blaine's hands moving up and now resting on his shoulders.

"Have anything holding you back."

Kurt inhaled sharply.

_Always fall so hard and fast._


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N: There is honestly no other excuse for the lateness of this than my own laziness. And every time I'd open this document, I would stare at it for 5 minutes and then write something else instead._

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

* * *

><p>Sometimes things in life just click. Things you struggled over for months suddenly make so much sense and those things you kept hidden don't seem so awful anymore. Smiling isn't something that makes your face ache, laughing isn't something to force out when really you'd rather wrap yourself up and cry.<p>

When Blaine had finally accepted to himself who he was, it was like a weight completely lifted, and he remembered lying in bed looking up at the ceiling, laughing genuinely for what felt like the first time in a long, long time. Fighting with himself, convincing himself with lies, for years had been exhausting. And when he finally accepted it, realised it wasn't actually the worst thing in the world, smiling didn't seem so hard. It was the fighting that hurt, being ashamed of himself that frustrated him. So that night when he was fourteen, when he first let himself think about a man in that way and enjoy it- and when he came down afterwards- he told himself he'd never fight over what he wanted or who he was again.

It was why, despite a night at a Sadie Hawkins dance where his memories were ones he'd rather keep deeply buried, he didn't try and pretend to be someone different. It was why he'd joined a Glee Club after he transferred to Dalton. He had something to hide behind: a performing persona he could become, but the boys were accepting, not caring, even looking up to him. It was easier to be that person around them. Breaking down his walls and becoming the scared fourteen year old lying in sticky sheets, crying, wasn't an option. To them he was Blaine Anderson, brave and smart, and so very sure of himself.

And this was why, a month into his second year at Dalton, he walked into the living room and asked his parents if he could transfer back to public school.

The safety he had at Dalton was something he desperately wanted to cling on to. He didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave the place he'd considered a home for the past year. But there was that part of him slipping away, he could feel it. It was exhausting trying to be perfect. In a perfect school. He was sure of himself now- sure that other people's comments wouldn't hurt him like they had when he was fifteen.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wanted a reaction from his parents, for them to argue with him before finally giving in. He'd be lying is he said he hadn't expected it either. But when he'd told them, his mother had looked right up at him, shock written all over her features, eyes wide and mouth open, and Blaine had thought for a moment she would say something. But then his father had interrupted.

"Anything you want Blaine," he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. "We want you to do whatever you want. If you think this is the right decision, we completely back you on it." He looked up to give a brief smile to his son, Blaine glancing at his mom to see what she would say. She was looking at her husband, her lips pulled into a tight line, before turning back to look at Blaine and giving a curt nod.

Of course, Blaine's parents let him go on his own way, make his own decisions, but they'd pretty much cut themselves out of his life to do so.

Learning to deal with this, he'd transferred after the Christmas holidays, subject to a lot of shocked and sad faces, and "But why, Blaine?" and "Where are you going to go?" questions when he'd left. He felt terrible for bailing on his friends, but he had to do this. He wouldn't let his fear hold him back again, and hiding away at Dalton was exactly that.

The last thing he had expected was to actually make friends at McKinley so quickly, not when making friends in the past had been so hard. He certainly hadn't expected to meet someone like Kurt, only halfway into his first day at a new school. Spending months worrying over moving to a new school, churning over thoughts of _is this the right choice? What on earth am I doing? Why am I doing this again? _ when they turned out to be something lifted after only a day.

Sometimes things in life just click. So perfectly you wonder why you even worried over them in the first place.

He wasn't worried anymore. Not over his parent's lack of interest (or not for the moment at least), not over burly football players (they seemed to have been a bit better towards Glee since Saturday's game), not over petty glee club fights and not over Kurt. There was no reason to be worried about Kurt. Because Kurt Hummel didn't need someone else to worry about him. He didn't need anyone to worry about him.

He needed someone to help him, but he was to God damn proud to ask... or to even admit it.

When Blaine walked into the choir room the following Thursday, everyone was already there, turning instantly to look at him when he entered. He smiled at them all, but faltered when he saw their faces. Some of them sat, folded arms, brows furrowed in frustration and others watched Blaine steadily, almost tentatively.

It was Finn who walked up to him and stared him down, and despite how tall he was, how he towered over Blaine, he wasn't intimidated. But he got the impression he was meant to be.

"What's going on?" He looked around the room briefly, catching Santana's eyes for a second before she shifted her gaze somewhere else, her arms folded but not looking at Blaine the way everyone else was. Looking up at Finn, he raised his eyebrows in question. Finn sighed, rubbing his temple before answering.

"We have to talk," he said, and Blaine had gathered as much, so waited for him to expand, "About Kurt."

_Oh._

Blaine swallowed and bit down on the inside of his lip. Trying to keep eye contact with Finn, he took a step back.

He cleared his throat. "What about... what about Kurt?"

"Don't act like you don't know, Blaine," Rachel cut in, stepping forward. "You need to stop asking him about Glee Club."

Blaine stared right at Rachel, shrugging his shoulders. "What about you? You're always asking him to join." Her face fell and she threw a quick look at Finn before answering.

"That's different," she insisted, staring right back, and it didn't matter if she was a foot shorter, she was just as- if not _more_- intimidating as Finn, and Blaine would rather have skulked to the back of the room than have this conversation with her. "I ask him sometimes but I don't keep going on at him like you are."

"I don't understand why what I'm doing is different to when you harp on at others when they refuse to join," Blaine shot back, wincing at the tone of his voice. He hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh.

"I don't-" she started, but Blaine cut across.

"Mike told me when Finn," he nodded at him, and Finn raised his eyebrows at the mention of his name, "left Glee last year, you wouldn't stop going on at him until he rejoined."

He didn't miss how Finn had moved back, leaving the argument between Rachel and Blaine. He was being ridiculous and Rachel must have thought so too as she threw an exasperated scowl towards him. Neither he nor Rachel had raised their voices, yet Finn looked as though he best get out the way.

"That was different," Rachel insisted. "I wasn't upsetting him by doing so, was I, Finn?"

Before Finn had to struggle out an answer, Blaine retorted, "Well, you probably made him uncomfortable."

"Like you're doing with Kurt?" Quinn pointed out. Blaine had hardly noticed she was in the room, wearing her normal clothes leaving her to blend in with the others now without her cheerleader's uniform.

"Well, I'm only doing what Rachel's done to Finn," he replied, looking at them all briefly seeing Santana's eyes were focused on Finn.

"Why is everyone making this about me?" Finn mumbled. "I said let's talk to him- not throw me in there."

Rachel folded her arms, turning her head up defensively.

"That's only because Finn is-" she started, but Blaine didn't want to listen, knowing already what she was going to say and not wanting to hear it.

"What?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. "He's not blind? He's not different? He doesn't need to be stepped around lightly because we aren't going to offend him if we don't?"

He looked around them all again, catching Artie's eye this time, and holding his gaze for a long second before turning to them all. He knew how stupid he sounded to them all. If only he could just sing about this, it would a lot less nerve wracking than talking to them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after they'd looked at him in silence for long enough, "I just wanted to help."

He moved to his seat, feeling their eyes on him again and when he glanced up as he sat down, he could see Artie looking at him like he wanted to say something, but then Mr. Schue had walked into the room and he closed his mouth. Blaine shot him a weak smile and then tried to concentrate on what Mr. Schue was saying.

Oh his way out, Artie grabbed him by the elbow, and he stumbled to a stop.

"I agree with you by the way," he smiled. "So does Brittany. I mean, she says it's because she really wants Kurt in the club but I get where you're coming from." Lifting his head up to quickly look at Brittany, who was talking to Santana on the other side of the room, he caught her eye and she waved brightly back at him. Feebly waving back, he turned to Artie.

"Thanks," he grinned, as they made their way out the room together. "Nice to know I have some people on my side." Artie cleared his throat, sounding, once again, stuck for something to say.

"Finn and Rachel care about Kurt a lot though," he told him, "Don't take it personally what they said." He turned on his wheelchair directly in front of Blaine, preventing him from moving any further. "Rachel tried ages ago to get Kurt to join and he got really upset with her. She's known him for a long time- since they were really young, I think. I don't think she's ever gotten over the fact that one day Kurt was fine and the next he..." his voice drifted off, unable to finish.

"Were they close?" Blaine asked, almost tentatively.

Artie shrugged. "I don't know. But I know she knew his mom pretty well." Blaine inhaled sharply. Kurt had never mentioned his mother, and Blaine had never asked. He knew his Dad was with Finn's mother, and had never brought up the topic of his own mom before.

"Do you know Kurt well?" He tried to sound like he wasn't deliberately changing the subject.

Beginning to spin on the spot again and carry on moving towards the exit, Artie replied, "The school tried to get us to hang out and talk to each other when I started last year. To talk about our experiences. Because we were both in accidents when we were young and I lost the use of my legs and he lost his eyesight. That's pretty much where similarities stop though. He told me he wasn't comfortable talking about it so we left it like that and haven't really spoken since."

Blaine nodded, holding on to the strap of his school bag, staring at his shoes. Artie turned off at the next corner and Blaine bid him goodbye as he carried on towards the library lost in thought.

There were times when Blaine would be dying to ask Kurt about how he'd lost his sight. The long pauses they had between them were usually filled with Blaine opening, and then swiftly closing, his mouth to try and ask, thankful Kurt couldn't see. He'd decided time and time again it wouldn't be fair to ask, even if he was dying to. Because not even Rachel really knew everything and she seemed to have known him the longest.

Kurt was tapping idly at one key on his laptop over and over, face pressed against his other hand.

"Bored are we?" Blaine asked, sneaking up behind Kurt and looking over his shoulder to see a word document page half filled with the letter 'B'. He shot up, shutting the laptop promptly, Blaine noticed covering the movement with a breathy laugh.

"Whoops," he giggled. Blaine smiled down at him, and squeezed his shoulder.

"Are you ready for some more math?" he asked, guessing that Kurt would groan before he did, his head collapsing into his folded arms as he slumped on the desk.

"Don't make me go," he mumbled into his sleeve.

"What if we go for coffee and study," Blaine suggested, "Coffee makes everything better."

"Even calculus?" he grumbled, lifting his head up.

"Even calculus," Blaine smiled, giving Kurt's shoulder another squeeze in mock support. "Come on, you can do this."

Kurt smiled up at him but his brow creasing. He fumbled with his laptop, trying to stand up. "Can we just get this over with?"

* * *

><p>"You lied," Kurt muttered, elbowing Blaine playfully as they walked out the coffee shop. "Coffee didn't make Calculus better."<p>

"That's because nothing makes calculus better," Blaine admitted. "Except my excellent company."

"You have a high opinion of yourself," Kurt snorted.

"I aim to please," he laughed in return, giving his arm a light squeeze. Kurt swallowed thickly before attempting to smile, worried it came out wrong. "So which way is it?" he asked, breaking the short silence.

"When we get to the next turning we go right," he replied, imagining Blaine was nodding along. "Thanks for this," he added. "I couldn't get home by myself without a few knocks and bruises... and you know, crossing the street would be difficult." He gripped onto Blaine's arm him to the side- _"Sorry- trashcan."- _letting himself stroke his thumb softly over his exposed wrist when his arm slipped. He sucked on his bottom lip, thinking of anything else but how warm Blaine felt pressed this close.

"Well, I hope Patti feels better soon," Kurt heard him reply, trying to concentrate on the steps he was taking at the same time as talking. "Left or right?"

He unlinked their arms and pointed in the direction with their entwined hands. "Left- No, she'll be fine. She's just under the weather and I didn't want her out in the cold." Blaine hummed in agreement, pulling Kurt in closer suddenly, linking his arm with his a little firmer. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blaine muttered. "Just keep walking." Their footsteps more hurried, Kurt craned his neck to look over his shoulder, remembering with a pang that he wouldn't see whatever Blaine was trying to get away from.

But it all felt too familiar. He felt seven years old again, wondering why he was being pulled away so quickly when he didn't even realise anything was wrong. They hurried along in silence apart from a short direction question from Blaine, and once they'd turned, his arm relaxed in Kurt's and Kurt could almost feel tension rolling off his shoulders. He opened his mouth, ready to demand an answer when Blaine cut across. "Talk about it later. Let's get you home first." Giving a stiff nod in response, he let Blaine lead him.

Apart from asking _"Which way now?" _and short responses from Kurt every now and then, they walked in silence, Kurt's mind going over anything and everything he could say to break it.

"You should come over to my house some time," he told him, in a way just to break the tension, but hoping he'd accept.

"Really?" Blaine asked, voice brightening. Images of what his smile looked like flooded through Kurt's mind. Was it small and shy, or wide and toothy? Did he sometimes smile smugly at him or roll his eyes fondly as he grinned?

Once again reminding himself to stop wishing to know what those looked like on Blaine, he forced himself to answer.

"Yes, I'd love you to," he tried to sound bright about it, forcing a smile, although it felt more genuine after he heard Blaine laugh. "We've been hanging out for month and you've still not been around. My dad wants to meet you." Blaine pulled Kurt to a halt.

"Road," he informed him, before setting off again after, Kurt assumed, looking across the street, "And really? You talk about me a lot, do you?" he teased.

"All the time, obviously," he joked.

Blaine halted again, steadying Kurt before he tripped. "Sorry," he apologised quickly, "I'm just... looking at where we are." He paused a moment, Kurt feeling him shifting against his side as he guessed he was looking down the street. "What did you say your house number was?"

"415 Whitman Avenue," he replied shortly, "So do you want to come over then?"

"I'd love to!" Kurt heard the smile in Blaine's voice. "I think this is it." He stopped suddenly, steadying Kurt. "When would you like me to come over?"

Kurt realised he was his arm was still tightly linked with Blaine's, and that even though he didn't need to hold them there any more, neither of them were making a move to pull away. He knew he'd have to and walk up to his house but he didn't want to miss the warmth holding Blaine gave him. He felt Blaine's arm tighten round his while he waited for his response.

"Sunday?" he stuttered out. "I think Sunday's good for us. And Dad and Carole are making Sunday dinner. Oh, are you a vegetarian? Or allergic to anything?" He shut up the moment he realised Blaine was laughing at his excited rambling. Looking down at his shoes and scuffing the ground, he bit his lip. Maybe he should just shut up, maybe he should never open his mouth again, maybe that was the only way he wouldn't look like such an idiot.

"Sunday?" Blaine checked, a laugh still in his voice. "This Sunday?" Kurt nodded, tilting his head back up. "Well I definitely don't have anything to do then," he laughed again, and Kurt forced a smile, even though he wasn't exactly sure what was so funny, "So, sure. I can't wait." He squeezed Kurt's hand in what Kurt supposed was a way of telling him he was happy. "And no to both those questions," he added.

"Great," Kurt breathed, finally pulling his hand away. "I'll tell Dad and Carole."

He hesitated a moment, about to turn into the house and instead he moved forwards slightly, feeling out where Blaine was by placing his hands on his shoulders, and then wrapping his arms around his neck, Blaine returning the embrace. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, so he pulled away quickly, instantly missing Blaine's arms around his waist.

"Bye, Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Kurt," he mumbled, with a breathy laugh as they fully broke apart.

It wasn't until Kurt was in his bedroom, with the door closed and his bag and coat hung up, that he realised the upcoming Sunday was February fourteenth, collapsing on his bed with a groan, muffled by his pillows as he wished the earth would stop waiting and just swallow him up before he made a bigger idiot out of himself.

It wasn't fair Blaine was so easy to like. It wasn't fair he could make Kurt feel so easy all the time, even when he brought up Glee club.

They hadn't talked about it since the previous week, both avoiding the topic until the other brought it up again. Blaine hadn't even mentioned it after the football game, when Kurt was so sure he would have. Instead he'd run up to Kurt cheering, _"We won! We won, Kurt!" _and then catching him in a tight hug, laughing like Kurt had never heard before. Soft and breathy and musical. And so happy.

He'd wondered if his hair was coming loose from the gel Santana said he always wore- or if he was even wearing it all because he'd been playing in the game for the first half with all the glee girls. He wondered if it was long enough so that it fell in his eyes when he laughed. He wondered if his eyes shone brightly, light dancing in them as he smiled. And he wondered what colour they were. More than anything that's what he focused on. Because they were something he never could see, not even if one day he was comfortable enough to lean across and feel Blaine under his fingers, he still couldn't begin to imagine his eyes.

He never asked what people looked like. He let his imagination carry him along, building from their personality, their voice, their laughter.

Other than his Dad, Finn and Carole were the only other people in his life that he knew exactly how they looked. He could imagine what an older version of the Rachel he could remember from years ago looked like if he tried hard enough.

And then there'd been Santana, who he'd waited two years to ask. Sat drinking coffee in his room while she described the dresses and outfits in Vogue to him. And he'd put his cup down a little too forcefully, trying to get out words stuck in his throat because he didn't think he could carry on not knowing much longer.

"Can I see you?" he'd asked. Santana had been very quiet. Unnerved because he couldn't hear a thing or even imagine what she was doing, he'd shuffled uncomfortably, unable to say anything until she did.

He'd heard her shuffling the magazine, putting it down and then crawling over to him. Placing her hand softly over his that lay folded in his lap, she'd whispered, "Are you sure?" She lifted his hand up slightly and waited for his answer.

He nodded stiffly and she moved his hand up until he was tracing her face with his fingertips. People said a lot about Santana Lopez, there were times when Kurt could come up with a few choice things to say about her, but he'd never forget how she'd been that day, making the awkward situation not just bearable but enjoyable. Sitting through Kurt's questions as he ran his fingers across her cheeks, her nose, and her lips- taking everything he could in- and she patiently sat while he asked her to do different facial expressions.

When they'd finished he'd muttered a thank you, still too embarrassed to look in her direction. He'd expected something sarcastic in response, something he could laugh off because that was what they'd built their relationship on. It was something Kurt appreciated deeply. Because, sometimes, most people thought twice, or wouldn't dare talk to him like Santana did. It was a trait he supposed made her so alike to Sue Sylvester, the Cheerleading coach.

But before she could say anything, before he could let her, something else slipped out.

"You really are very beautiful," and he'd heard a staggered breath, automatically looking in her direction when he did.

She leant in and brushed the hair off his face, and whispered back to him, "You are too, Kurt. I wish you could see it." Kurt ignored how she'd choked up. They never brought it up again. Kurt knew how equally hard walls were to build up and equally so to break down.

Kurt wouldn't say their relationship had changed. But something after that day was different.

_And it only took two years, _Kurt scoffed at himself.

And it was going that way with Blaine.

_Except it hadn't progressed this fast with Santana_, he reminded himself.

Kurt didn't even know if he could ever feel comfortable enough to know what Blaine looked like. Blaine, whose emotions were always so transparent, didn't keep any walls up around Kurt. Kurt wished he could keep his down as well as Blaine did.

He couldn't keep down his excitement for Sunday. If Blaine mentioned it, he'd start grinning and nodding, fidgeting with his hands under the table, bubbling over and rambling eagerly. Telling Blaine his parents were going to love him, because how couldn't they when he's so easy to like?

Not that he'd say that out loud.

By the time Sunday had come around, he was sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. He heard Carole pass him, humming, asking him quickly if he was okay. He nodded, still fidgeting while he waited for Blaine to come over.

"What time is it, Carole?" he called as she walked by.

"Quarter after eleven," she told him, "What time is your friend meant to be here?" It couldn't be more obvious she was grinning at him, the way she sounded so happy when she spoke to him. But then he supposed he couldn't be more obvious he was excited.

"Half past," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm. He ducked his head so she couldn't see.

She laughed as she walked past him, leaving Kurt to wait anxiously alone, drumming his hands on his knees and breathing slowly. He heard a loud groan from upstairs as Finn moved around the landing to get to the bathroom. It was silent before he heard a few more groans and the sound of his brother collapsing on the tiled floor.

"Finn?" he called up the stairs. Hearing a groan in response, he relaxed once he knew Finn was still conscious. "Are you okay?"

"Do I sound freaking okay?" he moaned, Kurt hearing a splash of water from the bathroom.

"Well that's what you get for kissing someone who has a boyfriend," Kurt snapped, as Finn turned the water off.

"Wait how did you-" he called down, panicked.

"Santana told me."

"Oh my God. She's such a-" he cut himself off, groaning again, Kurt hearing another splash of water as he assumed Finn dampened his face again. Kurt moved up off the staircase, unfolding his cane, and made his way towards the kitchen. Anything to get away from the retching noises from upstairs.

There was a knock at the door before he'd even had time to sit down. Clambering back out into the hall, already hearing other footsteps moving towards the front door, he felt the cool air against him as someone opened it, quickly followed by Blaine's voice, coming out breathily from the cold.

"Um... hi, Mr Hummel? Is Kurt in?" Kurt smiled, biting at his bottom lip. Blaine sounded so young; he could almost see him looking up at his dad with wide, scared eyes.

"Blaine, is it?" his Dad asked, which must have been replied with a nod from Blaine as Kurt listened in. "He's right here. Come on in, kid."

He heard footsteps as his Dad and Blaine moved around each other, Blaine's feet rubbing roughly against the door mat, and the wind outside caused Kurt to shiver before the door was finally shut, followed by soft laughter.

"Kurt!" Blaine greeted him brightly, causing Kurt to bite his lip down again before he grinned back at Blaine a little too enthusiastically. He bumped into him to hug him, hands brushing against Kurt's arms, Kurt flinching back at how icy they were against his skin. "Sorry, it's cold outside..."

"No kidding," Kurt remarked, frowning. "You need something warm in you," he added, reaching forwards and hoping he'd find Blaine's hand, which he did, and led him to the kitchen, ignoring how icy they were in his.

Half an hour later, spread out his bedroom floor with cups of coffee, Blaine was babbling happily about the past week in Glee, Kurt trying not to pull a face every time the topic of _love songs _came up. Blaine hadn't even started his coffee, he'd told Kurt after he'd already finished, telling him he was using the hot mug to warm his hands up. Smiling fondly at the image he could at least pretend to see, he pulled himself up off the floor to put his mug on his dresser.

"You know," Blaine began slowly. "That's amazing." Leaning back against his bed, Kurt sat back on the floor.

"You're going to have to be more specific," he joked, "There's a lot about me and my bedroom that's amazing."

Blaine chuckled, finally taking a sip from his coffee. "That is true," he agreed. Kurt waited for him to add something, hardly noting he was leaning towards Blaine while he did.

"I meant how you know where everything is," he continued, still speaking carefully, but there was something else in his voice that Kurt couldn't put his finger on-something close on admiration. "How you can get around everywhere and know where everything is. It's amazing."

"Actually, we've only lived here since after Christmas and I still don't know where the kitchen table is. I've stubbed my toe six times alre-"

"Kurt."

Kurt shut up, his mouth turning up to one side. "Thanks, Blaine," he mumbled, not really sure what to say.

"Blaine?" He raised his voice a little.

"Yeah," he responded after another sip of his coffee.

"Do you remember the other day when you walked me home?" He waited for an answer but could only hear a soft _"Mmm" _in reply. "When we started walking quickly and... did you see someone?"

Kurt could hear Blaine swirling the last of his coffee in his mug.

"Yeah," he admitted slowly. "Some football kids from school. But it was okay. I think they're laying off on the Glee kids for a while."

Kurt nodded, desperately wanting to ask why he'd wanted to get away so quickly if he knew they weren't going out for him any more. Or for a while at least. But the question died in his throat and he let it stay there.

"I have something for you," he heard a scuffle, Blaine moving along the carpeted floor and then a zip and him fumbling around with his bag.

"Blaine, why have you got me something?" he asked warily, moving over to where Blaine had crawled over to. Blaine's breath hitched and then something fell to the floor with a thump.

"Well, it's for both of use really," he admitted. "Go on- feel it." He took Kurt's hand, placing it on the thing he'd put on the floor between them.

Kurt didn't have time to say anything before he felt the cool, glossy magazine cover beneath his fingertips. His lips parted, ready to ask a question in confusion.

"It sounded heavier than a magazine," he wondered aloud, and Blaine shuffled again. Kurt wasn't sure if he making it up in his head, but Blaine sounded excited for something, and it was eating away at Kurt's curiosity.

"Well, um..." he paused a second, taking the magazine away. "I added a little something to it."

Kurt cocked his head, waiting for him to expand.

"You know how you told me that sometimes you'll sit with Carole or Santana and they'll describe the clothes in Vogue?" Blaine began to explain, beginning to skip pages. Kurt nodded. "Well, a couple of weeks ago I was thinking-" he paused while he turned another page "- what if we went one better than that?" Kurt opened his mouth to ask what Blaine meant but he'd already dropped the magazine back in front of him. He took Kurt's hand again in both of his, now warm from holding the coffee.

He brought his hand down so it was nearly touching the copy of Vogue again before pulling his own away.

"Go on," Blaine encouraged him. "I want you to feel it yourself." Kurt tilted his head towards him but his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned his hand forward until it met the glossy page of the magazine again.

Except he didn't feel that. His breath drew in, his fingers curling into the fabric beneath them, the warm wool taped to the inside of the magazine.

His other hand moved to cover his mouth, and he could feel himself shaking, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was experiencing this from somewhere else, he wasn't even there at all. Not even when he couldn't stop his shaky breaths. Because if this was just the start of what he thought Blaine had done, he didn't know if he could take the rest.

"I... um," Blaine started, "I remembered how you talked about clothes. And how you like to feel them." _God, _he sounded so worried, as if he didn't think Kurt liked it.

_I bet you look like you've seen a ghost, that's why, _he thought, fisting the hand over his mouth.

"And I remembered those fabrics you had in your locker and I thought... well, what if I read out the description of the clothes and you can feel the fabrics and... I thought you'd like it. Do you not like it? I'm sorry, I-"

"Blaine, no," Kurt half sobbed, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but keeping his other on the wool. "Blaine, this," he paused, his voice coming out shakily. "This is the nicest thing anyone has ever- I can't believe you did this." He moved his glasses up quickly to wipe the few tears that had leaked out. Turning to Blaine and giving he what he guessed would be a very watery smile, he laughed unsteadily. Ignoring more tears building up, he tried to hold himself steady.

"Of course I would," Blaine laughed. "I... I really care about you." Kurt's fingers that had been lazily running across the wool froze. "Um... do you," Blaine continued, clearing his throat, "Do you want me to describe the one made of what you're touching right now?"

Kurt nodded quickly, another sharp breath as Blaine flicked through pages of something else he was holding.

"I bought two copies," he told Kurt quickly, and began reading the description of the fabric Kurt hadn't been able to take his hand away from. _"Escada Wool/Silk Blazer and Matching Trousers,"_ he read. "If you lift up the wool I've taped," Kurt did so and felt underneath it, now running his fingers along the soft silk. "Yeah, there's some silk. It's black. The wool is grey- I know, not your favourite- and it has two rows of two buttons and cross hatching design on it. I don't think it looks too bad."

"It feels..." Kurt paused, swallowing thickly, "It feels beautiful."

"Move your hand to the right a bit," Blaine instructed, and Kurt did, soft silk replaced by cashmere that he'd recognise anywhere. _"Pringle Cashmere twinset," _he read again. "It's like a... dark beige colour? An undershirt and long sleeved shirt. They look a bit thin for my taste. That and it is women's clothing so..." he cut himself off with a short laugh, Kurt getting the impression he was being watched over.

"How did you get all these?" he laughed breathily, hands wiping tears away again before Blaine could see them.

"A good allowance and a fashion savvy mother," Blaine told him. "She helped with the materials."

"Tell her thanks from me?"

"Of course," he replied softly.

The next few hours were filled with endless descriptions, and questions (_"Yes, but how low is the neckline? Low or pretty high? Yes, that's important, Blaine.") _and different materials under his fingers as he tried to guess what they were when they weren't familiar. Kurt's head was so full of descriptions of woollen skirts and silk dresses, denim jeans and cotton shirts by the time dinner came he was sure he's have dreams filled with piles and piles of clothing that he could never afford to buy.

Blaine had given some pretty opinionated comments on some clothes had Kurt rolling his head back as he laughed at the image of Blaine's face contorted with disgust. Other times he'd shake his head fondly, reminding him, _"It's fashion, Blaine." _And usually, Blaine would scoff in reply.

His dad and Carole talked animatedly with Blaine at dinner. They asked him what he liked in school and what he didn't, where he wanted to go when he'd finished school and what his parents did for a living. Kurt felt bad for not speaking up, telling them to stop grilling him, but Blaine seemed to enjoy talking to them, and Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in listening to Blaine talk.

Finn was still upstairs, bed-ridden, so Carole went up to see if he wanted any food, leaving Blaine, Burt and Kurt at the table.

"So, Blaine," Burt started, "Kurt said... Kurt said you're gay too."

"Yes, I am," he replied quickly.

"Good, good," Burt started, "I mean that I think it's good that Kurt has someone he can talk to and... you know relate to."

"I do too," Kurt said from across the table. "Or did we forget I'm here?" He smiled to tell them he was joking, taking a sip of his water.

He hadn't realised how quickly dinner had gone, how the hours holed up in his bedroom had flown so quickly by that it was nearly time for Blaine to leave.

"Thank you for having me over, Mr and Mrs Hummel," Blaine thanked them, Kurt hearing him pulling his coat on, fumbling with the buttons. Kurt let his eyes close, though it made no difference, and built the picture up. Wrap the scarf around his neck, then pull his coat on, buttoning it slowly as he smiled at his dad and Carole, then pulling his bag over his shoulder, fidgeting until it was comfortable.

"No problem, Blaine," Carole laughed. "You're welcome here any time."

Kurt walked with him to the front door, opening it and they both stepped out into the early night time chill.

"Thank you so much," the words fell out his mouth before he'd thought them through, choking on them. He wrapped his arms around his body tightly, shivering from the freezing breeze. He sucked on his bottom lip, willing himself to finally say what he wanted to since Blaine had said it.

"It's... It was nothing," Blaine mumbled shyly. Was he ducking his head, or smiling softly? He imagined Blaine was doing both.

Kurt smiled sadly at him, unable to believe Blaine could think it was nothing. That it was something that didn't send thrills in Kurt's stomach every time he thought that Blaine had done something like that- spent time over something- all for Kurt. His breathing shook while he formed the words on his lips.

"I really care about you too," he admitted, the words coming out too fast and too jumbled together, but Blaine seemed to understand from the soft _Oh _in reply,which Kurt believed was accompanied with a small nod. "And it wasn't nothing," Kurt continued, slower. "It meant a lot. Thank you."

"Thank you too," Blaine replied, "For having me over."

"Any time," Kurt shrugged, and Blaine stepped forward and hugged him, knocking the wind out of him in shock before he relaxed into it, face burying into Blaine's thick scarf, taking in its smell so he could now memorise that part of him.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, lips moving against his neck, shivers shooting down his spine as he let go and stepped back into the house.

"Bye, Blaine." He held on to the door handle, smiling at where he'd left Blaine. He could still feel where Blaine's mouth had been on his neck, still feeling warm compared to the rest of him. "See you tomorrow?"

"I'll bring the coffee!" he called as he walked down the path.

"You better!" he shouted back, closing the door behind him and leaning his back against it, not able to wipe the smile off his face even if he'd even tried.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you for all the lovely comments so far! They all mean a lot :)_


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'd like to apologise for the 3 week gap. Things get in the way and inspiration lacks sometimes. But anyway... here you go!_

_The song in this chapter is Reasons Not to Be an Idiot by Frank Turner. If listening to music helps you when reading then you can find it here: .com(/) watch?v=5xfdGXA62ZM_

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

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><p>Kurt hadn't been here before and it was silent. Deadly silent. Enough he could hear each of his steps echo across the huge room as he padded across the wooden stage. He stepped carefully, cane held out in front, hitting the floor as to check it was still there and he wouldn't tumble over into the pit.<p>

His cane cracked against solid wood and he leant forward, feeling soft cushion beneath his hand as he felt it out. Folding his cane, he moved slowly around as he put both hands on the object before sitting down carefully, finally relaxing as he settled onto it.

He smiled as he reached out and pushed up the smooth piano key cover, letting his fingers graze over the keys. He hadn't played anything much recently other than on his keyboard at home, which wasn't anywhere near the same as a piano. They couldn't afford one, and there really was no room for one at home, but Kurt still felt a stab in his chest that he didn't have the old piano- that had stood in the living room for as long as he could remember- any more.

The ones at school were always beautifully tuned, Kurt had found, as he let himself play softly with one hand. He hadn't played the one in the auditorium before, hadn't even known there was one in here, but it played just as well as the choir room piano from the few notes he idly played.

His fingers stilled, the soft echoes of notes across the stage dying after only a few seconds, and he sat rigidly on his stool. He waited for other footsteps to approach from the direction he'd walked in from but he couldn't hear any. He couldn't hear anything. In a room he could feel was so large- the chill made the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end- it was disconcerting.

Fumbling with his phone, he pressed the button down until he heard the familiar noise to tell him voice control was active and checked the time.

"_The time is fifteen-seventeen."_

Blaine wouldn't be here yet for his promised "Private Glee" practice.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Sucking softly on his bottom lip, his hand hovered over the keys again, pressing lightly before he found C and placed both hands carefully across them.

His Dad had always laughed at him for treating piano keys, even the ones on his cheap little keyboard, like they were made of glass. Kurt would return his laughter with a small smile, bittersweet, like his mother had done when he laughed at her for the same thing.

He began very slowly, almost so carefully it really was as if he was terrified of breaking it. It was easy to just detach himself and let his fingers play delicately across, his eyes closed. He could always see her when he played. See her small smile when his hands stuttered over the keys, because sometimes it was all that bit too much. He pulled his hands away, folding them in his lap.

She could be sat next to him. She could have her hand over his as she taught him little jingles on the piano. She could be laughing down his ear and telling him he was doing wonderfully and to move his feet a little slower, because if she was here now she wouldn't have to press the pedals. He wasn't eight any more- his feet no longer dangled in midair.

Yet he filled his time up with sad piano songs, when the only ones she'd ever played for him had him giggling and clapping, the only tears being ones of laughter. She'd always loved to hear him laugh and sing along.

His eyes stung with a fresh wave of tears that he managed to stop with a sniff, and he began to tap his feet in a mindless rhythm so he would wander from thoughts of what a disappointment he must be to her now.

"Kurt?" a voice echoed across the room, followed shortly by small footsteps. He spun on his stool, head turned in the direction of Blaine's voice.

"I'm here," he called back and the footsteps hurried, Blaine turning a corner.

"Were you playing?" his voice rang clearly across the stage and he moved over to him. Kurt felt him pass as his arm brushed his, the piano creaking slightly as he leant against it.

"No... not really," he admitted, tilting his chin up. "I didn't feel like it."

Blaine stepped over, curling his arm round Kurt and playing dreamily on the keys. "I haven't heard you play for a while." He reached over and closed the lid and Blaine's arm retracted swiftly.

"I haven't felt like it," he shrugged. He didn't want to think about playing when he could only hear sad music. It filled his head most days and he was tired- tired that the only thing he could think about when he played piano was his mother. He smiled up to Blaine, hoping he wouldn't catch on, that he wouldn't ask questions.

Blaine's silence ended up worrying Kurt further, the folded hands in his lap becoming suddenly very interesting.

It must have only been for a split second, Kurt must have made it up his head- maybe he'd mistaken the silence for something else- because the next moment Blaine's humming broke through, laughing as he flipped through papers.

"So, what do you want to do then?" he asked, the cheery ring in his voice forcing Kurt's lips to curl up as he pictured Blaine's impish smile and eyes wide with enthusiasm. "I thought we could play a bit of piano and sing but if you don't want to... we could do something different. How about-"

"Could you sing?" Kurt cut through. Blaine's voice trailed off, the noise of the papers he'd been flipping through halted and Kurt heard them being spread across the top of the piano. "I just want to hear you sing first," he added.

"Then you'll join in?"

"Yes, I'll join in," he smiled. "I just want to hear you sing... sing properly."

Leaning forward, he propped himself up on the piano, hands tucked beneath his chin and smiled up to where he heard Blaine hardly moving, still rustling the papers across the top of the piano.

Blaine usually never stopped moving, his feet carrying him everywhere. He hardly ever kept his hands to himself, Kurt had noticed, always bubbling with some excitement, and when he did he was always reaching out, squeezing his shoulders playfully or holding his hand tightly. Or softly, a light graze of his fingers over the back of Kurt's hand. Or grabbing him into a hug before Kurt could protest.

He was extremely still in comparison standing at the piano still fidgeting with those papers. He sat up a little, question on his lips about what those papers were when Blaine finally spoke.

"Any requests?" he asked brightly, fingers drumming on the piano.

"Something cheery," Kurt replied, quickly, to Blaine's amusement. His footsteps padded further away and Kurt tried to turn his body in the direction they were walking to.

Soft jingles rang across the stage and when Blaine had moved back over he was pressing the source of the sound into his hand.

"A tambourine?" Kurt quirked his eyebrow, shaking it slightly.

"I have one too," he shook it and it rang along with Kurt's. "You can play along. I haven't got a guitar so we'll make do." He shook it again, chuckling at the way Kurt was shaking his head.

He began tapping his tambourine, shaking to a beat Kurt couldn't place, his own tambourine lying still in his own lap. He seemed to be finding the right beat for his tambourine, finally settling on a fast paced one as his voice mixed with the sound of the music.

_You're not as messed up as you think you are  
>Your self-absorption makes you messier<br>Just settle down and you would feel a whole lot better  
>Deep down you're just like everybody else<em>

Kurt's back straightened, hands clasped tighter around his tambourine as he listened. Blaine's voice was light and happy, and yet Kurt couldn't shake what he was singing. But his voice sounded so carefree, so happy for that moment, he let his hands loosen on the instrument.

_She's not as pretty as she thinks she is  
>Just picture her after she's had kids<br>I bet she sits at home and listens to The Smiths  
>Deep down she's just like everybody else<br>_  
>He laughed loudly as Blaine sang, shaking his head as he imagined him stood only a few feet away, losing himself in the rhythm of his playing. Despite his laughter, he found his feet tapping in time to whatever beat Blaine was drumming out and, leaning against the piano so his hand was against his face, his fingers tapped in time against his cheek as he smiled.<p>

_So why are you sat at home?_

Blaine must have turned on the spot, his voice moving so it sounded closer to Kurt- that he was facing him. He smiled, wishing he could see if Blaine returned it.

His voice was loud and bright, singing right at Kurt, who found himself beginning to clap along, the song almost forcing him to do so, lost in how his face had split into a full grin as he listened to Blaine sing.

_You're not designed to be alone  
>You just got used to saying No<br>So get up, get down and get outside  
>Because it's a lovely sunny day<br>And you hide yourself away  
>You've only got yourself to blame<br>Get up, get down and get outside_

If Blaine was trying to tell Kurt something, if he was trying to get something through to him, then maybe he shouldn't have laughed so much, maybe he shouldn't have started clapping along (though he didn't touch the tambourine). Maybe he should have stood up and told him to stop.

_You're making me uncomfortable, Blaine, even if it is through song._

Maybe he should have spoken up.

If he could have found a way to actually care. If he could have found a way to convince himself it was the truth.  
><em><br>I'm not as awesome as this song makes out  
>I'm angry, underweight and sketching out<br>I'm building bonfires of my vanities and doubts to get warm  
>Just like everybody else<em>

It was as he began the chorus again, singing almost breathily as the words rolled off his tongue, that Kurt stopped clapping, fully entranced.

There was something breathtaking in the way Blaine performed, in the way he moved through the song with an energy that Kurt couldn't just feel but _see._He hadn't realised how powerful singing could be, not until he'd seen Blaine perform like this everything he sang so completely genuine. Singing and moving across the stage, footsteps in time to the increasing beat of his tambourine, and being closer to himself than Kurt had ever witnessed before took his breath away. When Blaine sang, Kurt could hear laughter through it, and he could see that invisible smile he'd thought so long about.

He took Kurt's hand and the neglected tambourine and forced it into his hand. Shaking his head as Blaine held his hand and made him shake it in time to his own.

"Come on, Kurt," he sang quickly between the lines, fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling him up off the chair. Kurt's feet tripped but he caught his waist, cackling at the scowl on Kurt's face, tugging him across the stage, Kurt's laughter almost drowning out the rest of Blaine's song.

_So why are you sat at home?  
>You're not designed to be alone<br>You just got used to saying No  
>So get up, get down and get outside<br>Because it's a lovely sunny day  
>And you hide yourself away<br>You've only got yourself to blame_

They weren't even playing their instruments properly anymore, with any beat or rhythm or timing. They waved them in front of their own faces, Blaine's tambourine ringing loudly next to Kurt's ear, as Blaine sang along and Kurt grinned and tapped his feet, breathless from laughing and running back across the stage, Kurt's feet stayed glued to the spot but he continued to dance where he stood. Or as much as he would let himself, still feeling incredibly conscious that Blaine's eyes were very possibly on him.

When Blaine finished singing, he sighed and collapsed to the floor, reaching up and tugging on Kurt's sleeve.

Kurt fell down next to him, clapping a little too enthusiastically. He forced himself to stop when Blaine began to laugh, but smiled when he leaned over to Kurt and tugged him further down so he was lying next to him, face up towards the ceiling.

"Blaine, the floor is probably really dirty," Kurt protested, but didn't move a Blaine's fingers intertwined with his as they breathed softly, silence sometimes interrupted by their broken laughs.

"That was really good, Blaine," Kurt said after they had been lying there for a few minutes.

Blaine hummed happily, squeezing Kurt's hand briefly. "It always cheers me up," he whispered. Kurt's fingers of his free hand played idly with the hem of his shirt and he breathed deeply.

"Were you trying to say some-" He stopped midsentence, not sure if it would offend Blaine. "I mean... were you singing that song in particular for some reason?" He half expected Blaine to take another long pause and to think out his answer long and hard before he told Kurt exactly what he was thinking. But he answered so smoothly, Kurt couldn't help believing that Blaine had been awaiting that question for a while.

"Yes," he shifted around, Kurt guessed so his body was turned towards him, and he tilted his head so that he was looking in Blaine's direction. His tongue involuntarily darted out, wetting his lips as he could feel Blaine's warm breath against his face, their hands now trapped between their legs.

"I brought some booklets and things," Blaine continued, carefully. "About Performing Arts." Kurt blinked behind his glasses and tugged his hand a little, but Blaine held on. "Performing Arts for the Blind," he finished slowly, Kurt snapping his hand away and sitting bolt upright. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his knees he pulled up to his chest. Blaine scooted up, so his side was flush against Kurt's.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," he started, but Kurt cut him off as he reached out and rested his hand on his knee. And although he had to add a little force, he managed a small smile as he squeezed his knee, the clear breath of relief from Blaine following.

"I'm not angry," he told him, pulling his hand away, "I'm not sad. It's just... I agreed to do these singing sessions with you but I'm not ready..." he paused again, huffing impatiently at himself. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about _that_." His arms wrapped around his legs, hugging them to his chest, the smile still plastered to his face almost painfully.

Blaine took a deeper breath before replying, voice gentle when he did. "That's fine. I just brought them so you'll know I have them if you ever want to read them." Kurt nodded, his smile relaxing.

"So," Kurt began playfully, rocking to the side to nudge Blaine. "Can you dance?" Almost scoffing, Blaine let out a breathy chuckle, nudging Kurt back.

"Kind of," he admitted, Kurt imagined with a modest smile or a slight shrug. "It's not my best but," he shifted, pushing himself up off the floor, catching Kurt's hands and tugging him up, "I don't mind dancing." He kept his hands on Kurt's and pulled him over slowly, backing up as they walked across the stage again.

They stopped in what Kurt assumed must have been the middle of the stage, Blaine's fingers linking with one of Kurt's hands, the other snaking around his waist to rest on the small of his back.

"What are you doing?" It came out as a gasp, his voice higher than usual. Biting on his inside cheek, he ducked his head as Blaine's fingertips twisted into the back of his shirt.

"Getting you to dance," Blaine laughed. "You promised you'd join in." Kurt scowled and tried to pull his hand away, but Blaine's fingers tugged at his in their clasped hands and he let the hardly existent fight die.

"I can't," he whispered, his face heating up as Blaine sighed and pulled him closer.

He pulled their arms of their holding hands up and out and moved the hand on Kurt's back further up. "That's why we start easy," he pointed out. "Now put your hand on the top of my back."

Kurt froze, mouth falling open slightly, only then realising how incredibly dry it was. He could have pulled back; he could have stopped it and taken a deep breath, forcing any amount of space between himself and Blaine. But instead he stayed, their chests pressed together, arms tucked around each other. His free hand lay gently against Blaine's waist, fingers fidgeting lightly on the fabric. Sighing, Blaine pulled his own hand off Kurt's back, covering Kurt's and pulling his arm up and placing it in position, returning his own hand to where it had been.

"Okay?" he checked and Kurt nodded stiffly, breath bated. Shivers ran down and settled at the pit of his stomach as Blaine's thumb stroked over his hand and he arm shook almost invisibly.

Blaine leaned to the side and muttered directions. "Now follow me where I go. We're just doing a waltz so it's nothing too difficult."

He moved slowly with one step, counting as he did, and Kurt followed. They danced in silence other than Blaine's soft mutters of _"One, two, three and one, two, three." _His breath tickled Kurt's skin and his hand clenched involuntarily in Blaine's as they danced. He moved one step behind Blaine, who began to hum a slow waltz in his ear, as they glided in their small box. Kurt's hands felt warm and sweaty against Blaine, all too aware of how awkward his feet moved after Blaine's smooth steps- all too conscious that Blaine could see every misstep and his every attempt at moving like Blaine.

They danced slowly, but no matter how hard Kurt concentrated, no matter that he'd been doing it fine for 5 minutes, it only took one trip up, one step on Blaine's foot and he pulled back violently.

"Kurt!"

He shook his head, biting hard on his bottom lip, chest already shaking with the threat of spilling out unwanted sobs. He breathed deeply through his mouth, folding his arms tightly across himself.

"I don't want to do this any more," he sniffed, a heavy weight on his chest pulling him when he heard Blaine's sigh. _The disappointment in that sigh_. He didn't want to hear that, but he didn't want Blaine to watch him and see how much of a letdown he was anyway.

"Well then, we'll stop and try again some other time-"

"No, Blaine," Kurt snapped, hands flying to his face and rubbing his eyes under his glasses in frustration. "I mean I don't want to do this _any more."_

He could never see Blaine, but he was sure his face at that moment was the picture of disappointment he had been painting behind closed lids for years.

"Kurt," he sighed, walking closer. "Stop that. It was one little mistake." Kurt shook his head again, stepping back. He turned around, wishing he knew where his cane was, air sucked from his lungs as he realised he had no idea where he was. Blaine tried to continue, stretching his arm out so he grazed Kurt's shoulder. "Come on. You were doing fine."

"It's not that," he cried, turning on the spot, trying to ignore his chest hitching violently. Blaine kept silent, pulling his arm away, and Kurt heard him take a step back. "It's not... I know it was just a mistake." He turned his head side to side, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He moaned, frustrated and tired, hopelessly looking around.

"I can't do this," he continued, his eyes burning with tears. "Because there's no point."

_He had to be to the side of the stage somewhere. If he could just reach out and feel something. A chair, a curtain, the piano..._

"Kurt, don't you enjoy it?" Blaine's voice was weak, and Kurt's anxious breaths faltered.

"Blaine, I do but-"

"Then there is a point," Blaine insisted, taking steps so he was close enough to him again. Kurt's lips drew tightly together, his head shaking fiercely, as if this would stop his tears spilling.

"There's no point in me pretending that... that I can make anything more out of this then I already have," he shot back. "There was no point in you bringing those booklets. I can't do this Blaine! I can't... I can't be a performer when I'm like this. You shouldn't have brought them! You shouldn't have made me do this."

His hands were fists as he rubbed his eyes fiercely, willing to feel something, to see stars, or colours flashing across his eyelids as he pushed his glasses further up his head to rub them.

"Kurt... Kurt, stop this," Blaine begged, pulling at Kurt's wrists, and he let them fall with a dry sob. Blaine kept his fingers wrapped softly around his wrists. Kurt let out a thankful breath, the slight contact with Blaine calming him down.

"I can't do this Blaine," he muttered brokenly, head down. "I can't do this for fun when I know I could never do it for real."

"But Kurt, people have done it before," Blaine reminded him. "Remember that song? You're no different. Neither were Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder."

"I've told you before," Kurt reminded him, "I am no Stevie Wonder. I am certainly no Ray Charles." He pulled a hand away to rub tears away that had already fallen down his cheeks, but Blaine brought it back.

"No, you're not," he said sternly. Kurt's mouth fell open and his heart felt like it was sinking. "You're Kurt Hummel. And you obviously don't realise how amazing that is."

He hiccoughed. He let Blaine pull him closer, his arms trapped between their chests, Blaine's wrapping around his back. He let himself struggle his arm out to pull his glasses off, arm wrapping back around, and bury his face into Blaine's shoulder. He didn't cry, and he didn't sob, because he couldn't.

"I feel like a failure," he admitted in a whisper against the fabric of Blaine's shirt. "I feel like I could have done so much more than what I have."

Blaine didn't say anything but held Kurt a bit tighter, rubbing comforting circles into his back. A few shaky breaths and vivid images of a woman he could hardly remember forced Kurt to pull away, shoving his glasses back on.

"You aren't a disappointment," Blaine told him, and Kurt offered a watery smile.

"I feel like I would be," he said slowly, testing the words. "To..." He paused and breathed deeply. "To my mom. If she were here."

Blaine didn't say anything, and Kurt wouldn't have expected him too. He'd never mentioned her and Blaine had never asked. He didn't say anything, but he brushed his fingers over Kurt's wrist, reassuring him _I'm still here. You can talk to me._

"I want to... I'd like to tell you about her," he struggled the words out as his breath shook."If I could."

He didn't need Blaine to say anything, even though he did with a short _"Sure."_The brush of his thumb across his skin was enough to keep him going, but he appreciated it.

He appreciated that he could talk about this for the first time in nine years. Nine years in which he'd never felt comfortable enough, never felt confident enough that another person would understand, so he had never brought it up.

His own fingers ghosted over Blaine's wrist as he forced his words out.

"First, I'd like you to do something for me."

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><p><em>AN: The next chapter has a lot going on but I'll try and update much sooner than this chapter was. Thank you for all the reviews and comments so far._


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N: So, this chapter took a while to write because I kept going over it and checking details because I wanted everything to be as accurate as possible. If there are inaccuracies then please tell me but I think I've pretty much researched this to death! I've cut down a huge chunk of this as well. The proof reading took longer than the actual writing. Anyway, thanks for waiting and all the lovely comments and do let me know what you think._

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

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><p>It could actually be said he was seething with annoyance, stood dumbly in the middle of God knows where, after Kurt ran off.<p>

"Kurt!" he shouted sharply after him, followed by the sound of laughter from ahead , alongside an excited bark from Patti. He scowled in their direction and remained rooted to the spot.

"Move forward a little," Kurt called to him. "Come on. I'm right here. You'll find me." Blaine blinked rapidly behind the tie Kurt had attempted to wrap around his head. It was coming loose a little, so Blaine tightened it, pulling at his trapped hair.

Kurt's attempt at tying the thing around his eyes had failed the first few times, but they were better attempts than Blaine's had been. The amount of loose curls that had been caught painfully while he pulled it the first time had near enough ripped some hair out, while Kurt laughed from beside him.

"How do I look?" he'd asked.

"I imagine pretty stupid," Kurt chuckled in reply, sliding over to Blaine and tying it himself.

He'd pulled him out of the house, Patti guiding him, one hand holding Blaine's, ignoring the grumbling objections that this wasn't a good idea, they were going to hurt themselves or Patti would run off and "W_hat good would come of that, really, Kurt?"_

"Blaine," Kurt sighed, with a tug on Blaine's arm. "Shut up and stop leaning into the road."

How he'd ended up standing alone, eyes blacked out and completely unaware of his surroundings or where they'd even walked to, had been Kurt's brilliant idea. A really funny joke, he seemed to think. He'd slipped his hand out of Blaine's for a second and broke off into a short run, Patti leading his way.

"Kurt, just come back here!" he yelled, trying (and then failing) to stop his mouth curling at the sound of Kurt's laugh. "I have no idea where I am," he added, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice.

Kurt Hummel usually had a way of crushing those attempts.

"In a field!"

"That's not vague at all," he shot back, forcing an irritation to his tone that died at the sound of Kurt's snorted laughter.

"Take a few steps forward," he instructed. "And you'll be with me again." He didn't move. "Come on, Blaine. What's stopping you?"

"The fact my guide can't see," he muttered.

"Shut up," Kurt laughed. "I just walked that way. I walk this path all the time."

Blaine wouldn't admit to anyone he'd stood still a little longer, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, trying to think of a good enough comeback. In the end, he shuffled forward slowly, with a few grumbles, until his fingers were twisting back around Kurt's and they set off again, Kurt laughing every few moments when Blaine swore at another branch he tripped up on.

"I thought you'd be more sympathetic," he mumbled, hearing something like _"Baby!"_covered by an exaggerated cough a little later.

Their walking turned slower, movements veering off to the side every few moments. It was strangely comfortable walking with Kurt like this, even if he wasn't sure why he'd had asked him to do it in the first place. When they'd arrived at his house after school the day after Kurt's request and Kurt had presented him with the tie, Blaine had had no idea what he wanted.

When he'd explained, Blaine had shaken his head a few times still not understanding what Kurt wanted from this. Or wanted from Blaine, to be more exact.

If it was some kind of proof that Blaine was willing to help Kurt with anything, then did he really need it? Hadn't he proven himself enough?

He could understand it a little better walking alongside Kurt, most of the time in complete silence. The constant mystery of what Kurt was doing, whether he were smiling or biting his lip or knitting his brows together in concentration, had driven Blaine to nearly tear the tie away from his eyes many times. The light that filtered through the gap at the top had forced his eyes to roll up to strain for a tiny glimpse, until he shut them tightly and concentrated on his footsteps.

Even if he couldn't see Kurt's smile or reactions, there was an odd calm about being oblivious to the potential judging looks of people he heard walk past them. Whether their eyes passed briefly over his and Kurt's linked hands, or whether they greeted them with an unappreciative scowl on their faces, didn't matter. He could close his eyes and ignore the rest of the world- the rest of this town at least- and focus on Kurt. Focus on the steps he took as Kurt guided him down winding paths and back into what sounded like an open street. Focus on Kurt's mindless chatter as they made their way back to his house, both desperate for a drink of something warm after the gnawing frost outside.

The rush of warmth that greeted them as Kurt finally fumbled his front door open forced him to falter slightly, feeling the side of Patti brushing against his leg as he stepped carefully in. He heard Kurt shut the door and the click of the lock.

After the first few seconds of bumping against each other softly in the tiny hallway, Blaine finally tore his blindfold off, blinking several times adjusting to the sudden light. While Kurt busied himself with sorting Patti out, Blaine offered to make some tea, his freezing hands begging for something to help warm them up.

He could hear Kurt laughing in the other room at the dog and scolding her playfully, the two of them joining him in the kitchen as he poured the steaming water into their mugs. Kurt scuffled around in a cupboard, Blaine catching the sight of him feeling around for Patti's food.

His eyes never left him while he idly turned the spoon in one of the mugs, as Kurt reached over and ran fingers through Patti's fur, smiling as she responded happily to him pouring food into her bowl. His stomach squirmed and he tried to pull his focus back on to the tea.

He blinked again, rapidly, suppressing any moisture from building up. Kurt had taken him out, blinded, holding his hand and it had been... it had been strange and wonderful and like Blaine had a sudden sense of exactly what this was for Kurt.

Except then they returned to Kurt's, he pulled off the blindfold and after a couple of seconds he could return to seeing, to watching and studying, and Kurt couldn't. He could hide that fact behind a smile and a pair of darkened glasses, but the fact was he'd never be able to. Blaine couldn't understand why Kurt had taken him out in the first place.

When he finally shook himself out of his trance, he found Kurt in the living room, fluffing up a cushion repeatedly. He put it back down, picked it up again, smacking his hands against it and placing it back in the exact same spot. Before he could reach for another thing to busy his hands with, Blaine startled him with the clattering of their mugs against the coffee table.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Kurt grinned. Or grimaced. It really could have been either the way his face strained at the question. He sat down quickly, folding his hands in his lap.

"I'm fine, I'm good. Awesome," he assured Blaine, hands fidgeting in his lap, voice breathier and higher than usual. Blaine frowned and sat tentatively next to him, only then noticing how Kurt's fingers were digging into his palms.

"Hey," he reached across and pulled one of his hands towards him, cupping it in both of his. "You don't have to talk to me about this if you don't want to." Kurt pulled his hand away instantly and waved it in front of him.

"No!" he insisted. "No, I'm okay. I just need a moment. I haven't... it's been a long time since... you know." His words were broken and cut off, pausing and swallowing every few seconds, hands fidgeting against his legs.

Blaine leaned over and passed him his tea, guessing it would be better if he had something to do with his hands. He watched over Kurt's face carefully as they sipped their tea in complete silence. His head was turned down, staring towards the mug he couldn't see in his hands. Eyes blocked from Blaine's view by the glasses, there was no way of telling if he was sad or lost in thought or even angry. Kurt's emotions- every one of his thoughts- were usually written across his face and even Blaine, who had difficulty reading Kurt when they had first met, could figure out how he was feeling. And yet, with his face drawn into a blank expression, his eyes hidden from view, Blaine couldn't read anything.

He waited. Not knowing what to say, they fell into a painful silence. Kurt's fingers began to trace lazily around the rim of the mug. With a heavy weight against his chest, Blaine wanted nothing more than to reach across and take his hand and lace their fingers together, just to hold it and reassure him he didn't have to worry.

His eyes lingered on Kurt's hand before following the line of his arm and the curve of his shoulder back to his face, now twisted into a small scowl.

If the silence had been his to break, Blaine would have spoken up.

Instead he moved to sit back, away from Kurt to give him some distance and ready to content himself waiting until Kurt was comfortable enough to continue, before Kurt raised his head and took a deep breath.

"She played piano a lot," his voice was clear, fighting to keep it strong, and he carried on, "And she taught me how to play. Mostly." He paused, turning his head in Blaine's direction, lips pulling up into a small smile. Blaine's hand reached across almost of its own accord, giving Kurt's a reassuring squeeze before pulling back again.

"She had this habit," he continued softly, "of only playing happy songs when we played. She always said she wanted to see me laugh. But she'd play by herself sometimes and they'd make my heart ache and I'd... I would sneak into the living room and listen to her play."

Blaine nodded, humming in response. Kurt shifted so his body turned around to face Blaine fully, their knees brushing.

"She was my everything," Kurt whispered brokenly. "And she was wonderful." He took a deeper breath, but it shuddered as he did and Blaine ached to scoop Kurt in his arms, dreading exactly what Kurt was about to say. He'd clicked on already, he'd suspected it for a while what it was, but Kurt had been talking about her in the past tense for too long for someone not to catch on.

"She died when this happened," he waved to his face, his voice surprisingly emotionless. "I don't think I ever told you that."

Blaine's stomach dropped, the heavy weight against his chest and heart seeming five times heavier.

"I'm so... Kurt, I'm so sorry."

It was pointless and Kurt shook his head at him, a petty effort at an assurance that it was okay. Of course it wasn't okay, Blaine was sure of that. Kurt's face drawn again with no emotion was enough of a giveaway sign.

"We can stop, Kurt."

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "I'm fine, I swear. I want to talk about this."

"I know," Blaine replied gently. "I just mean, whenever you feel you can't go on, even if you're near the end, you can stop." A breathy laugh escaped from Kurt as he pulled up his glasses and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

There was another long breath from Kurt, exhaling slowly.

"She was the last person- the last _anything_- I ever saw," he admitted, voice quiet. "It still sticks out to me. That image- more than any other." The shake of his breath, followed by his hands vibrating, was all it took for Blaine to slide over, take the mug away and place it down with his back on the coffee table. Now sat close enough their hips were grazing, he lifted his hand up to stroke Kurt's bangs from his forehead, before hesitating and settling to wrap his arm around Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt sniffed loudly, rubbing the side of his nose absently. Squaring his shoulders, tilting his head up a little higher, there was an extra defiance about him, even if Blaine could see the cracks he was struggling to hide.

"I can't remember it. I can't remember how it happened."

His body may have been pulled up straighter but his voice wobbled, giving him away. Blaine tightened his arm briefly around him.

"We were driving home. I... apparently I suffered some head trauma," he swallowed, trying to find the rest of the words, "which resulted in some kind of pre-accident amnesia or something? I don't really know." He shrugged, Blaine's arm falling back down to his side, hands curling in his lap.

"I've heard of that happening." It was a completely useless thing to say, needless and pathetic, but he had to say something, instead of nodding dumbly to someone who couldn't even see him responding.

"Yeah, well," Kurt sighed. "I can't remember the last few minutes before it happened. Apparently... apparently a truck rammed right into us and..." His words trailed away, taking a breath as his fingers shook. His voice sounded thick, holding back, but his face remained surprisingly dry.

Blaine reached out tentatively, fingers brushing over Kurt's hand faintly before Kurt turned his palm up, allowing Blaine to take hold of it and pull it into his own lap.

"I'm glad I can't remember," his voice shook in no more than a whisper. "The last thing I can remember is her laughing. And her hair was in this really loose bun and falling out. She-" the laugh that escaped felt out of place, genuine but sticking out amongst the thick emotion between them. "She was laughing about..."

His hand pulled away from Blaine sharply, Blaine recoiling automatically while Kurt muttered, "Laughing about... about... I can't remember... I can't..."

His fingers slipped beneath his glasses and Blaine didn't know if it was to rub them out of weariness or to brush away any escaped tears.

"I can't remember," Kurt repeated, voice thick. "It's so hard to."

"Kurt," Blaine started.

Kurt shook his head forcefully, scowling in Blaine's direction and Blaine felt himself not shrinking back but leaning his body in closer and nudging Kurt with his side. He left his words unspoken and waited until Kurt brought his face back to look in the direction of his properly. He wet his lips before speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I must have... I don't know," Kurt shook his head again. "It wasn't much, but there were tiny shards of glass embedded in my eyes. The doctors suspected I must have aggravated it by blinking so much. They were incredibly deep." His hand lifted to touch the frames of his glasses with his fingers lightly, before letting them fall back. "My corneas were pretty much scratched to hell. The doctors keep telling me I was lucky I couldn't remember the pain or when it happened." His voice stuck as he let out an aggravated scoff, fingers curling in on themselves.

Blaine measured him with careful eyes as his face twisted darkly.

"I can remember waking up, though," he told Blaine. "They put me into surgery immediately and God, can I remember that." His voice was cold, fingers digging into the palm of his hand. Blaine hardly registered taking hold of it again.

Kurt froze, his next words leaving slowly.

"My first instinct was to open my eyes," he muttered. "And if you've ever tried to open your eyes after eye surgery...well, that's the last thing you're meant to do. Especially when there are thousands of tiny unhealed scratches all across them, let alone having had them cut into for God knows how many hours."

Bile rose in Blaine's throat from the way Kurt's voice twisted achingly.

"I was screaming. For my mom. My dad. I'd opened my eyes and everything was dark and I couldn't stop because I was scared and my eyes felt like they were burning out of my head."

"Shit," Blaine breathed, hands clasped too tight over Kurt's. But he couldn't pull himself away, take his hands off Kurt when if he did, Kurt would fall apart and crumble without him there to secure him to something.

"I was in pain for so long," Kurt admitted, hands warm and dampening in Blaine's. "On as many pain meds as you can put an eight-year-old on. Without them, every time I blinked was like..." He paused, head tilting down breathing slowly.

"They'd warned my dad there was next to no chance of me still having my sight but he was terrified. When he told me Mom had died, he... he said he was sure my eyes would heal up. I was eight and scared and he was hysterical. They made me stay in the hospital for longer than usual because they didn't think he was in the right state of mind to take a blind child home.

"But I started having nightmares. And woke up screaming every night for my mom and dad and he demanded I came home." He leant into Blaine, holding himself against him, as if making sure he was still there.

"I carried on having nightmares. I kept dreaming about crashing and once..." his voice faltered and his head turned upwards.

Blaine's hand must have crushed bones in Kurt's, surely, the way he was gripping it so tightly. The words he was dying to say stuck in his throat. And he watched with a terrified wonder as Kurt seemed to have second thoughts and checked himself, shaking his head.

"Dad spent most nights calming me down."

He loosened his grip on Blaine's hand, but kept them together.

"I started never opening my eyes," he barely breathed, "because I could remember people's reactions, could always hear the pity in their voices. My dad told me I couldn't sit with my eyes closed all the time. But I hated it. God, I hated it."

He spat the last part, hands pulled away from Blaine, shifting his body so it tilted away, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands.

"I hated everyone seeing me and instantly pitying me," he shook, "I hate it now. I got the glasses and it makes it less noticeable." His head lifted up, his expression fighting to remain blank.

"I heard my dad talking to the nurses. My eyes were in pretty bad shape and... I know they look bad. People only have to look at me once and feel sorry for me. It's their first thought."

Blaine lifted himself up, Kurt following the movement with his head and Blaine could see the tear tracks down his cheeks. Standing above him, he studied his face, pale and a few tears still trailing down, his hair windswept and falling in his face, and then his eyes. Covered up and hidden.

"It's not," Blaine told him tenderly, kneeling down so he was level with Kurt.

"Not?"

"The first thing everyone thinks when they see you," he repeated, slowly.

"How do you know that?" Kurt sniffed, pulling himself up. Blaine shifted, raising his hand slightly to take Kurt's again but stopped himself and reached for his arm instead.

"Because I didn't."

He didn't miss Kurt's sharp intake of breath, or the way his shoulders fell from the tight position Kurt had held them in. He didn't miss how Kurt's fingers rested delicately against his own hand lying on Kurt's other arm or how he pulled them away almost reluctantly.

He shook his head and wiped his cheeks roughly, dislodging his glasses for a second before fixing them. Blaine didn't know what to say or what to do but whatever he was doing felt right. He couldn't bring himself to talk or ask questions, but he let Kurt carry the conversation and with a soft grasp of his hand on Kurt's arm, Blaine hoped he was able to keep him anchored. When Kurt opened his mouth he thought for a moment he was going to ask him what he did think when they met, but his eyebrows furrowed, drawing his mouth to a frown instead.

"I'm pathetic," Kurt scoffed, ignoring Blaine's disagreements. "I am, Blaine. I just... I feel so exposed. I feel so sorry for myself all the time and yet I hate when people feel sorry _for_ me. I used to spend so long asking _why me_, I ended up a pathetic whiny child."

"You aren't, Kurt," Blaine insisted, the grip on his arm a little tighter.

The smile Kurt flashed Blaine was small and incredibly sad, the kind expected to be followed by tears, but it was tender and did all it could to tear at Blaine's heart.

"You've know me for less than two months," Kurt reminded him, head turning away. "Your mind could easily change."

The weight of Kurt's words hit him hard somewhere in his lower abdomen. Had it really only been two months? That didn't seem a long enough time for him to know all the things he knew about Kurt. Or was this what it felt like when you made true friends? Like you'd known them as long as you'd known yourself even if it was only really a barrel of information compressed into a few short weeks.

He wanted to reach up, take his glasses off and hold his face softly in his own hands, look him directly and have him see the sincerity in his own eyes, that he would never do that. That Kurt could never chase him away.

He couldn't. He'd never be able to get Kurt to see.

Maybe this was what it felt like when your heart broke.

"I don't care if missing her is pathetic though. I wish she were here, Blaine," he sobbed, throat sounding as though it was closed up and his shoulders shaking. "I keep thinking... I'm going to forget."

His hands flew up to his face, fingers underneath his glasses and pressing into his eyes, forcing more tears back.

"I miss... I miss her," he choked out, holding an arm around himself. "I can't even remember her properly and it's awful." His voice shook but Blaine could tell how hard he was suppressing hysteria rising in it. "I can't look... I can't see pictures of her and even if I close my eyes and pretend I can see her... I can't. I can't." He shook his head and Blaine caught the few tears rolling down the side of Kurt's nose before he could brush them away hurriedly.

His hand that wasn't resting on Kurt's arm itched to lift up and take the glasses off once again but he refrained, even though it must have been uncomfortable to cry with them on. It was Kurt's choice and he'd let him have that.

He shifted up, pushing from the couch and sitting back down. His arms wrapped lightly around Kurt's waist, who tensed under his touch, before relaxing into it. Blaine pulled him slightly, directing him where to go, and Kurt got the message leaning into Blaine's side, tension rolling from him as he melted against him. He felt Kurt shiver and drew an arm further up to rest against Kurt's, tilting his head so Kurt's could rest his on Blaine's shoulder, hair softly brushing against his cheek.

"I can't remember the exact colour of her hair," he mumbled through the thickness in his throat. "Or eyes. And Dad describes them sometimes but it's not... it's not..." Another few helpless sobs escaped and Blaine wrapped his arm tighter around him.

He stroked circles into his arm slowly, listening to Kurt's soft breathing of repeated words as he said to himself, "_It's not the same... not the same."_ The mutters softened and were followed by weak shuffling as he pulled his legs up onto the couch and curled into himself. Blaine wasn't sure if what he was doing was working, or if Kurt understood completely, but he kept him wrapped up against him, familiar patterns traced against his arm, reminders of how he was here and not going anywhere. Never going anywhere.

"You're so brave, Kurt," he breathed softly against his hair. "So brave."

The soft pressure left his shoulder with the tickle of Kurt's hair brushing against his cheek, but the rest of his body stayed pressed against his side apart from the hand that lifted up to pull his glasses off.

His eyes stayed tightly shut. Head resting back against Blaine's shoulder, he drowsily mumbled, _"Uncomfortable."_Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, and felt his throat stick as the moisture evaporated.

His eyes remained closed, and tightly too, his glasses chucked carelessly beside his feet. His eyelashes were stuck together with tears, cheeks blotched and blushed red, and with the ever present pain in Blaine's stomach, he looked at Kurt with the hollow realisation that there were more times than a person should count that he'd looked like this. He closed his own eyes and rested his cheek against Kurt's hair and his breathing slowed to the pace of Kurt's soft breaths and he lost himself in the sound and feel of it.

When he opened his eyes, he'd fallen back across the couch, Kurt lying on top of him, chest rising slowly as he dozed against him. The sun had completely sunk from the sky now, no more dying streams of sunlight through the window across the living room. Patti had already made her way in, curling herself by the couch underneath Kurt. Shifting up, blinking sleep out his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Kurt lying against him, features barely visible in the faint light.

His hand traced without thought along Kurt's hairline, softly stroking the hair out his face. His cheeks remained bitten red and the tears had dried there now. His eyelashes had dried and were fanned out against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply, lost in sleep. Pulling soft strands of hair from his forehead, Blaine scanned over Kurt's face slowly, appreciating this moment before Kurt woke up and put the glasses back on, obscuring his eyes.

His thumb traced softly beneath them, freezing for a moment as Kurt stirred. There were bags there, but any stress they usually held had dissolved as Kurt dozed, face softer than he had ever really noticed it to be before.

Lifting his eyes to stare at the ceiling, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the light, Blaine let his fingers trail over Kurt's bangs, trying to ignore the prickling heat behind his own eyes or the erratic beating of his heart as he'd studied Kurt. He felt Kurt's fingers dig into his shirt as he slept and his eyes fell back down to his face. He tried to tear them away another few times but they always ended up focusing on the line of Kurt's nose, or the curve of his jaw, or how his head lifted slightly as Blaine's chest rose from his own breathing.

When Kurt's dad returned home a while later, he pulled himself out of Kurt's grasp, sending a few apologetic glances Mr Hummel's way, surprised Kurt only curled up on the couch without so much of a stir. He tried to rush out of the house, despite Burt Hummel's invitations to stay for dinner and he assured him he had to be getting back home. Blaine found himself covering up in his jacket not long after at the front door, stroking the top of Patti's head as she said goodbye in her own way.

"Um... say goodbye to Kurt from me," he asked timidly and Burt nodded in response, Blaine swearing he could see the faintest of smiles playing at his mouth that was met with a poignant look in his eyes.

"Sure thing, kid. Drive safe."

He could have driven safer. But thoughts of soft breathing and fingers digging into his side running through his mind every few seconds couldn't have done well for his concentration.

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><p>He was curled up with a coffee and the book they were meant to be reading for English, his eyes dragging over the words and then back again as they all blurred into one while his stomach kept squirming, when his phone rang.<p>

Reaching blindly to his dresser, he put his coffee down and answered without looking at the caller or taking his eyes from the page.

"Hello?" a voice mumbled from the other end, followed by a small yawn.

"Kurt?" The book landed on his bed with a soft thud and he shot up, curling his legs up to his chest.

"Hey, Blaine," he laughed tiredly, Blaine smiling at the image of a rumpled Kurt, hair sticking up at odd angles and rubbing his eyes.

"Did you just wake up?" he asked, leaning over to pick his coffee up, sipping if only to reduce the dryness suddenly forming in his throat.

"Yeah," he mumbled in reply. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine!" Blaine assured him. "I fell asleep too for a while. I know you're tired." Kurt hummed slowly. Blaine rested his forehead on his knees waiting for an actual response, fingers playing nervously in his bed sheets.

"I wanted to thank you," Kurt finally spoke up, clearing his throat. "You've been really good to me. Too good."

Blaine shook his head, to himself more than anything.

_I haven't been good enough to you, Kurt._

"Don't be silly," he muttered but Kurt laughed, crackling slightly through the phone.

"I mean it," he told him, voice steady. "When you were... before when I was cr- when I was upset, you told me I was brave. Well, you made me realise I'm not."

"Kurt-" Blaine started, sternly, head aching and not wanting to start another argument.

"Hear me out, Blaine," he cut across. "I'm not brave. And I want to be."

He paused for a moment, Blaine sure he could hear him moving around, maybe sitting some place more comfortable.

"I carried on taking piano lessons for my mom, because I knew I'd have broken her heart if I hadn't. I love it and I know how upset she'd be if I gave up something I love."

Blaine nodded, pressing the phone to his ear, not even caring if Kurt couldn't tell what he was doing, because he would know he was listening anyway.

"And I realised... well you made me realise," he carried on, "That she wouldn't have wanted this either. I love singing too. You've reminded me how she'd hate that I'd given it up."

He should have stopped nodding because it was pointless but he couldn't think of a word to say even if his throat wasn't already painfully dry. He took another long sip of his coffee.

"So," he started slowly. "Are you saying you'd like to come to Glee?"

"No," his reply was too quick, like the question had been expected, but firm. "Not yet anyway. I'm not ready to come to Glee club." His voice was a little shaky, mumbling slightly and his breaths were shallow before he finally asked, "But can I carry on practising with you?"

Blaine let out a strangled laugh, relieved. "Of course, Kurt." His mouth curled up, face breaking into a wide smile. "I'd love it if you did."

"Me too," he admitted, Blaine hearing his smile down the phone. "It's better than math at any rate."

Blaine chuckled, fingers playing idly with the pages of his book.

"That's not hard though."

"True," Kurt laughed. He paused.

"Blaine?" he ventured.

"Hm?" he replied dreamily, leaning against his pillows.

"Thank you for today," he whispered, quiet enough to make Blaine wonder if there were other people near him. "For everything."

He smiled softly against the fabric of his pillow, stomach fluttering at the sound of how sincere-how grateful- Kurt sounded.

"Any time, Kurt," he whispered back, though there was no one to listen in on him.

And after they bid each other goodnight, and Blaine dozing off, his phone dropped lazily by his side and his light still on, he repeated the words in his head, churning them over until he let his eyes fall completely shut and let sleep take over.

_Any time._


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N: So thank you so much for the comments last week. They really meant a lot. Seriously, I think I got all teary at a couple so thank you so much._

_Warnings for this chapter include bullying and slight physical harm towards the end (locker check and torment). Also a brief mention of nightmares as I know that can upset some people._

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

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><p><em>You have five new messages.<em>

"_HUMMEL! Why aren't you hereeee? Get here now- hic- I'm borreddd."_

_..._

"Kurt! Kurt! I stole your number from Blaine. Blaine is so awesome. He's my new duet partner now, Kurt. Kurt, he's so awesome."

...

"Oh my God- answer your- hic- phone. I'm bored and- no, Sam, go away, I'm busy-"

"_Hey Kurt, man! I don't know you much but you seem awesome. Santana's busy now... bye!"_

_..._

"Alcohol is funnnn. Tina! TINA! Pull yourself off Mike and say hi to our boy."

"_HI KURT!"_

_..._

"I really lo- hic- you, you know. You're so awesome. More awesome than me. I'm a freaking coward and you're so- hic- brave. Why can't I be- hic- too? What? Okay. Okay, Sam, I'll be there in a minute."

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><p>"So," Kurt grinned, swaying slightly on the spot he was coiled up on the floor.<p>

"So?" Blaine absently parroted as he shuffled around, though his thoughts seemed elsewhere.

"So, I heard you guys got pretty drunk at Rachel's on the weekend?" he ventured, biting down on his lip as he finished, pulling down the smirk playing there. The squeak of Blaine's shoe across the stage floor echoed across and his shuffling stopped.

"Oh God," he groaned. "You heard about that?"

With the stifling of his laughter failing, Kurt threw his head back and let himself snigger at Blaine's worried tone.

"Santana told me what you got up to," he coughed in between laughs, jolting as he heard the sudden screech of the piano stool being pulled across the floor. Blaine refused to say anything else and carried on moving things around. The familiar shuffle of papers followed, and his iPod dock being placed back on the piano. Kurt's lips curled, fingers tapping against the floor idly.

"What was it like?" he asked mockingly, "Kissing a girl?" He dragged the last word out, letting it hang in the air between them, not missing Blaine's irritated scoff.

"We were drunk," he muttered, forgetting his plan to ignore Kurt. Kurt rocked on the spot, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Ah, true love," Kurt teased, bringing his hand to his heart. "Rachel and Blaine sitting in a tree..." he began to sing despite Blaine's indignant _"Kurt!"_

"K.I.S.S.I.N.G. First comes love," he drawled, laughing and continuing even after Blaine's pleas of _Shut up. You aren't funny. _"Second comes marriage..." He was cut off by the wind being knocked out of his lungs as Blaine collided into him, cackling and grabbing his waist. He shouted in surprise as he was pulled out of his curled up position, legs flailing in the air as he landed on the floor with a thump.

"Shut up."

Kurt scowled up from where Blaine's voice was laughing above him, staring up in disapproval though his heart beat erratically under where Blaine's hands were wrapped up in his shirt.

Lifting his own hands up, he pushed against Blaine's chest, but Blaine pulled Kurt up with him until they were kneeling, knees brushing faintly.

"Sorry," Blaine apologised meekly, voice fading softly as if he was ducking his head. Kurt caught the smile that edged the sound of his words.

"No you're not," he chuckled, pushing Blaine's chest, becoming all too aware of how close they actually were. Kurt's hand rested momentarily on Blaine and he longed to drag it up and trace lightly along the contours of his face, or tangle them tenderly through his hair.

"Well you can't pick on me," Blaine protested. "We were drunk and it was a dare, okay?"

Shaking his head, Kurt tried to bring himself back to what Blaine was saying.

"Yeah..." he mumbled. "Did you enjoy it?" He laughed the question out, but his fingers playing nervously with the pocket on Blaine's shirt gave him away. Being this close to Blaine had clouded over his thoughts, the reason they'd ended up like this was hazy and unimportant. Why were they still talking? Why couldn't he tilt his head up and lean forward and-

"Not really," Blaine sighed, pulling Kurt out of a part of his muddled thoughts. "It was fine but... you know. I tried to pretend she was a boy."

His strangled laugh felt foreign, and if he hadn't felt it bubbling in his chest, Kurt wouldn't have believed it was himself who had laughed it. Blaine's small chuckle tickled his cheek, only their soft breaths left between them as their voices died down.

"Dance with me," Blaine breathed, hands skimming over Kurt's arms until they wrapped around his hands, pulling him up and twirling him on the spot.

It had happened like this every day for the past week. The slow dancing and easy movements as Blaine hummed instructions to Kurt and he'd follow. Kurt would always follow, never able to do anything more, but perfectly content being held and twirled around with Blaine as some far-off music played in the background. The rush of blood through Kurt's ears, his pulse thrumming in his temple nearly always drowned out everything else but the sound of Blaine's calming breaths.

Kurt had tried to ignore how close they were pressed together, the heat building in his chest and stomach, the goosebumps along his arms as Blaine stroked a thumb barely across his hand. He tried to ignore the times when Blaine's fingers on his back would dip lower, or slip as they danced, and graze over the bare skin showing from where his shirt had ridden up and the shivers of odd pleasure they'd send shooting up Kurt's spine.

Sometimes he'd let his own fingers curl lightly in the fabric of Blaine's shirt, or entwine their fingers and pull them closer to his chest. He didn't know what he was doing, only that he wanted Blaine as close as possible.

He hadn't expected Rachel to interrupt them an hour later, brows knitted in confusion as Blaine pulled away.

"She wants me to do some vocal training with her?" he apologised. "I'm sorry. I'll tell her I'm busy."

Kurt shrugged, ignoring the tug in his chest.

"Don't worry," he smiled. "I should be getting home now anyway." He forced the smile to stay on his face as Rachel greeted him. The sour look on his face as Blaine drove him home a substitute for glaring at the back of Rachel's head.

As the week dragged on, Kurt's only salvation were the hour spent with Blaine, finding himself lost in the sound of their footsteps and laughter. It was easy to make mistakes, and not shrink away like he had the first few times, when Blaine tripped and messed up every so often. Blaine's muttered apologies and fraught laughter along with a picture of him blushing helped Kurt find it easier those times he stumbled over his own feet.

Rachel ended up popping up after every hour, with a flurry of eager words flying out her mouth as she listed things she and Blaine could focus on that night. While Blaine packed up, she'd turn to Kurt, because for some reason she could not stop talking.

The conversation would usually turn into Rachel's favourite topic about her dreams of getting out to New York, of being on Broadway, of where she saw herself in two, in five, in ten years. Even though he zoned out a few times, eyes drooping a little as she droned on, something she'd say would perk his interest every so often and he'd sit up and spit out everything he knew about musicals and Broadway to join in.

Blaine was lucky if he ever got a word in edge ways, but Kurt could hear him laughing, picturing him shaking his head at the pair of them.

He found himself beginning to look forward to Rachel's entrances interrupting their sessions and her sometimes harsh comments.

"Blaine, that's sloppy," she'd declare as she strolled in. "Straighten up. Like Kurt. Kurt has perfect posture." Blaine grumbled and mimicked what she said as Kurt smirked smugly in his direction, earning him a soft shove.

He could get used to this routine, especially the car journeys home, the sound of Rachel flicking through a note book and reading from her list, Blaine trying to keep up.

Kurt curled up in the back seat and listened to them, Blaine's distant humming as Rachel recited her list over again. The amount of times the words _Regionals _and _we have to be fully prepared _came up ended with his head lolling against the window dreamily, enjoying the sound of their avid laughter.

Rachel was a handful, he'd gathered that much from Blaine's late night phone calls describing their vocal exercising sessions, but he could hear the smile in Blaine's voice. He could hear how he grinned down the phone and how he laughed while probably shaking his head as he recounted the weird things Rachel came up with.

At the end of the week, when Blaine met up with Kurt in the auditorium again after school he was yawning widely, Kurt imagining him stretching his arms out above his head, mouth open wide.

"You aren't overworking yourself, are you?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice. Blaine hummed softly in confusion. "I mean... with Glee and your sessions with me and then Rachel's every night. And homework. You must be exhausted."

"I'm fine," Blaine insisted with a small yawn. "I'm enjoying myself so I'm fine." Kurt sighed and forced his lips into a small smile.

"Look, don't worry," Blaine insisted, moving over and grasping his hands gently. "Rachel doesn't want to do anything tonight after what happened in the assembly," Kurt suppressed a snort before he ended up laughing, "So, I can go home and get a good night's sleep."

"Living it up on a Friday night," Kurt laughed dryly. With a small shove, Blaine moved away, laughing in spite of himself.

They fell into their easy rhythm, gliding across their small spot, humming along to the music. He should have been bored of this by now. Yet even though dancing with Blaine was one of the simplest things he could do, it was also the only thing Kurt did with another person that made him so entirely comfortable he felt like he was floating away from the rest of the world. His fingers tightened around Blaine's as this realisation hit. Never before would he have believed he'd have found _dancing_ comfortable.

He forced back the prickling in his eyes, but let his smile grow wider, laughing as Blaine swayed him carefully around.

The song drew closer to its end, their movements getting smaller and smaller until they finally stopped with it. With no music to cover it up, the beat in his chest was deafening, thrumming through his veins until the new song started.

"You lead this time," Blaine whispered, moving their hands, shifting their position and pulling Kurt a little closer.

Kurt shook his head. "I can't."

He didn't know how he would start. Or how to move and glide Blaine across the stage the way Blaine did with him. All too conscious of Blaine's lingering gaze, he dipped his head, cheeks burning.

"It's easy," Blaine told him softly. "Pretend you're playing piano. That the steps and beat are as easy as the music you're playing."

Kurt nodded stiffly, throat dry. He wet his lips absently and pulled at Blaine.

They hadn't talked about what Blaine had done for him the previous week much. They hadn't even talked about it since, but Kurt longed to reach out and tell him clearly. Hold his face in his hands and tell him as visibly as he could.

When he'd let Kurt take his hand and lead the way, with himself blinded to the world around him, it had been enough to push Kurt to tell him about the accident and his mother. Blaine would probably never know how much a small hand hold had meant, but no one had ever done that before. He'd done it the first day they met and he continued to do it now.

No one else had ever let Kurt lead before.

They were rough steps and broken movements, not like how Blaine had led them so effortlessly through, but thankfully the music played slowly and their steps almost lazy.

_Left and right and back again. And spin. _

The words echoed in his head, his thoughts driven by them. The squeeze on his arm pulled him out as Blaine's fingers dug in lightly.

"Piano, Kurt," he reminded him. "You're playing piano."

Dancing was easy, with a smile that split across his face, laughing softly as Blaine hummed along to the song, letting Kurt lead him. No guiding tugs or changes to the way Kurt led them across. His feet still felt heavy but he replaced the words in his head with notes and beats and let his feet move in time, heart fluttering slightly at Blaine's soft compliments that were quickly replaced by his delicate voice, singing along with the music that played.

Kurt's fingers tightened in Blaine's shirt, nose and eyes burning. He laughed breathily, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. A few droplets stuck to his eyelashes, yet he ignored it and let a couple roll down along his nose. The lump in his throat stuck as Blaine leaned forward and whispered the words against Kurt's ear in tune, his fingers flexing in Blaine's.

He swallowed the words on his tongue, stopped himself from singing along, comfortable in being wrapped up in Blaine and the sounds of his voice.

Pulling away as the song ended tore at him, reaching his arms up to pull Blaine back as he left him to pack away. The warmth around him was gone in an instant, so quickly Kurt stood dumbly wondering what had happened. He'd expected to stand holding each other for a few seconds at least, even if his wishes of Blaine pulling back and leaning his head in were pushing it.

"That was lovely, Kurt," Blaine spoke up after he'd scuffled a few things into his bag. His hand rested on Kurt's shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. "You're doing amazingly." A short laugh fell easily, though the weight in his stomach pressed down.

"We should get out of here," Blaine sighed sadly. "My parents want me home early tonight." He huffed in annoyance, but relief rolled from Kurt in tides.

As they made their way out, down the wind corridors, Kurt wondered briefly if everyone suffered from ridiculous paranoia when they were in love.

His steps faltered, Blaine's voice carrying a little ahead of him but sounding faraway and blurred. Quickly stumbling forwards again, before Blaine noticed something was wrong, he pulled himself straight, ignoring the words that had run through his head but hadn't admitted to himself fully until now.

Blaine's voice still sounded so distant but the voices of at least three other people rang clearly down the corridor.

"Great, we ran into the homos," a voice groaned, the laughter of his accomplices joining in alongside it. Kurt pulled his bag tighter over his shoulder, gripping it against his chest. He knew that voice. He'd heard it enough times in math class when he and the other football jocks decided to steal his pencils and paper because that was _so_ amusing to them.

"Great, we ran into the Neanderthals," Kurt shot back, reaching out to Blaine's arm. "Come on, Blaine, let's get out of here." Blaine didn't move, frozen under Kurt's light grip. "Come on, Blaine," he added insistently with a tug. It was met with another chorus of laughter from Azimio and his gang and he turned his head and glared their way as well as he could.

"Um..."

"What's the matter, Anderson? Afraid of finally getting what's coming to you?" another voice laughed.

Karofsky.

Kurt's stomach dropped and the walls were closing in around him. His heart fought against his constricting chest to keep beating.

Most of the football players were barely annoying, others like Azimio liked to make Kurt's day as hard as possible. But none of them bothered Kurt. None of them terrified him. Except Karofsky.

Footsteps heading towards them felt louder against his eardrums as his heart pounded against his chest. He rubbed at it as it drummed painfully, his breaths raw and shallow.

"Little sick, aren't you, Anderson?" another voice from someone Kurt didn't know the name of.

"Yeah, not only is he a fag, but he likes stalking little blind kids, too," Azimio piped up. "You know, I think that's deserving of some kind of punishment."

They were drawing in closer but Kurt didn't shrink back. He pulled into himself and straightened his shoulders, opening his mouth willing an insult, a come back... anything to push them away.

He felt nothing, but the sound of a body smacking against the lockers rattled through the empty corridor, as Blaine's arm slipped away from under his fingers.

"Stop it!" he yelled, reaching around wildly, cruel laughter echoing around him. He could feel how the space around him had emptied and they'd all moved to the side, crowding Blaine. He couldn't see where they were. Or what they were doing to Blaine. They laughed at him, one of them reaching an arm out and pushing him hard in the chest so he fell back, cane falling with a crack even though he managed to stay balanced.

"You three."

Everything stopped. Their laughter died and Kurt heard the shuffle as they moved back and stood up. Someone was by his side instantly, fingers ghosting over his hand as his cane was returned. He surrounded Kurt with requisite warmth, holding his hand and pulling them away slightly.

Kurt felt him shake under his grasp. He squeezed his hand back and pulled him closer.

He had never been so thankful to hear Sue Sylvester's voice.

"What are you doing? Don't you have some remedial class to get to in case there is actually any chance of knowledge passing through those thick skulls of yours? In fact, you can see me in my office _now._"

The corridor was silent. Kurt let his eyes fall shut and forced images of the scene in front of him. The three boys tilting their heads in confusion, looking at each other with worry.

"Don't just stand there. Go. Now."

Clambering footsteps followed as the three scampered off down the hallway, their mocking laughter dead in their throats.

Blaine let out a long breath, fingers relaxing against Kurt's, his shoulders dropping.

"Thanks," he said, with a small sigh.

"No problem," Sue replied stiffly, though her voice was softer than Kurt had heard it before. He heard her hesitation and when she continued, that tone was gone.

"Next time get out of the way. Maybe all of that product in your hair has turned your brains to mush but there's no point in staying and fighting."

With a squeak of her sneakers against the floor, Kurt listened to her stride back the way she had come from, footsteps dying as she turned and made her way to her office. They were all gone now, and Blaine was pulling his hand away, but the shivers down Kurt's arms prickled at his skin.

"Don't worry," he muttered, gripping his cane in both hands. "She's just like that. You'll get used to her."

He could still remember the first time he'd met Sue Sylvester, back in his second week of freshman year, as he tried to find his way to English class.

"_Well, if it isn't Kurt Hummel, taking up the hallways once again," he heard a voice from behind him. He stopped, wondering how the woman speaking knew his name._

"_Sorry," he replied huffily, trying to place the voice to any teachers he'd already spoken to. "I can't really __see__ where I'm going."_

"_That's no excuse," the woman replied. "I have places to go and people to insult and your blindness isn't an excuse for distracting me." Kurt opened his mouth to retort but found his voice stuck._

_He cleared his throat. "Can't you just go around me?"_

"_I will not," she scoffed. " I don't just walk around people, Hummel. People move out of my when they see me, and just because you can't do that doesn't give you special privileges. Now move along before I take those stupid looking glasses off your face and give them to some has-been rapper who wears those things indoors in a sore attempt to regain a level of coolness he never really had in the first place. When really, it just looks like he's covering up his conjunctivitis." _

_Kurt shut his mouth when he realised it was hanging open._

"_You're an offensive person," he muttered, stepping out the woman's way._

"_Tell that to someone who cares," she sniffed, walking off, Kurt imagined without a second glance back at him, leaving him alone to go over what actually just happened, in the middle of the empty corridor._

He shook himself from his memories but Blaine still hadn't said anything. He stayed silent, feet scuffling slightly against the floor.

"Blaine, are you alright?" he asked. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," Blaine answered quickly. "I'm fine. I'm good, really."

"You don't seem it," he argued, wishing he could curl up to Blaine and hold him.

"Can we just get this stuff in your locker and leave?" Blaine grumbled, moving slowly in front of Kurt, waiting for him to follow.

"Blaine, I-"

"Please, Kurt." His tone was pleading and Kurt could hear the unspoken words as if they were louder than the ones he was actually saying.

_Drop it. Leave it. Don't talk about it._

He didn't seem fine. He wasn't okay. He could deny it for all it was worth, he could laugh and hum along to songs on the radio as he drove Kurt home, but the memories of how he'd frozen up and then shook against Kurt when he'd held his hand wouldn't leave even as he lay curled up on the couch that night.

He shivered as the sounds of clattering against lockers that echoed through against his ears, and he pulled a blanket over himself tightly. He clenched his eyes shut, drowning the sounds out with Blaine gentle voice singing against his cheek. His fingers relaxed in the thin blanket.

He could see a smile. A soft one, eyes wide and loving. He could see it falling, colourless eyes brimming with tears and a faceless person breaking, until there was nothing left.

His eyes flew open, making no difference, the make-believe image still burnt across his thoughts.

He downed six cups of the coffee over the next two hours, willing himself to stay awake. Dreams of crashing cars and shrill screams were rare nowadays, but he couldn't cope with the thought of more dreams of watching someone break. Watching a best friend whose face remained a mystery, and always would, hurt when he could do nothing about it.

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><p><em>AN: I'm happy chat about anything if anyone wants to. Just message me or drop me an ask in my tumblr (youpromisedmebroadway of course!) :)_

_Thank you!_


	9. Chapter 8

_A/N: I was going to say the next update may take a while but when I finished this chapter I got a little over excited for the next one and already have a good chunk written so it might be sooner than I thought! The song playing on the iPod is (/)watch?v=fmnvAyxuHs0_

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

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><p>Kurt hardly saw Blaine the next week. When they arrived in school on Monday, a fresh cup of coffee had been pressed into Kurt's hand along with a rushed apology from Blaine as he moved clumsily around in his locker.<p>

"Regionals next week," Kurt heard Blaine's muffled voice say from within the locker. "Got... stuff to practice."

That had meant no extra sessions after school. In fact, it had meant no disturbing Blaine or the rest of the Glee kids during lunch periods. Instead he hid himself away in the tiny pocket of the library, typing away while he ignored the itch to get up and join them.

It had also meant less math tutoring from Blaine and Kurt pounded his head endlessly against his desk every time he forced himself to study.

Kurt found himself drifting off to the sound of Blaine's voice the few hours they managed to get together. He didn't mean to, most of the time, but it started happening more often than not. Taking AP classes had been a tough choice to make at the start of the year, many teachers and his dad included had asked Kurt if he was sure he could cope.

He'd said of course he could.

Maybe he wasn't as sure now, falling asleep over Chemistry homework and waking up with a crick in his neck a few hours later, laptop still buzzing by his side.

It was no surprise when Blaine had escaped Rachel at the weekend and managed to smuggle his way into Kurt's house that the two of them had collapsed on Kurt's bed and slowly drifted off.

Blaine tried to keep them awake, but his one-sided conversation had drifted off into incoherent mumblings until all Kurt could hear were soft breaths by his ear.

He shifted slowly out of his deep sleep, his head buried in Blaine's chest, the soft smell of fabric softener surrounding him.

He blinked his eyes open, hand flying to his face as he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses. He pulled himself up softly, immediately missing the warmth of Blaine's arms snug around his waist. He leant across to the side, hand splaying out against his dresser until he found them and pulled them over his eyes.

"Kurt?" a muffled voice spoke up, mumbling from the spot buried in pillows by his side.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Kurt smiled, stretching his legs and arms in front of him.

"Come back to sleep," Blaine murmured, voice far off as though he was digging deeper into the sheets.

His arm snaked across Kurt's, pulling him until he was lying back down, side pressed to Blaine's chest. Peeling Blaine's arm away, Kurt shrunk back, hovering slightly over the edge of his bed.

It was too much. It was too much to be conscious and to be that close to him. It was too much to not only be that close, but to be that comfortable being pulled back by Blaine, how comfortable it would have been to sink back into dreamless sleep lying next to him.

"You put your glasses back on," Blaine muttered, frown in his voice. "You looked uncomfortable with them on so I took them off," he told him through a yawn.

"Don't fall back asleep," Kurt chastised with a harsh nudge, jolting Blaine up. He didn't hear exactly what Blaine said from his mumbling into the pillows, but he could take a wild guess.

"I wasn't going to go back to sleep," he argued, bed dipping as he sat up. Silence lay between them, Kurt shifting uncomfortably trying to figure his next words out.

"Do you want to do some math work?" Blaine ventured, soon laughing once he saw how Kurt's face twisted into a grimace. "How about something else?" He brushed past Kurt, scrambling up off the bed, padding across the room until Kurt could hear the soft zip and shuffle of Blaine's book bag.

He waited patiently, fingers threading together, on the edge of the bed waiting for Blaine to zip the bag up and fumble back across the room.

In the next moment, Blaine was pushing against Kurt, shuffling up next to him, until they were both back against the pillows.

"Move up, let me squish in."

They were settled up against each other as Kurt heard the quick flicking of pages of what Kurt could only guess was one of their regular magazines. He started to read- an article Kurt wasn't particularly concentrating on. Instead he opted to nuzzle his cheek against Blaine's shoulder as he listened, eyes dropping at the sound of Blaine's soft voice.

He would definitely never tire of this. He liked it when Blaine read to him, his voice was oddly soft and his laughter musical. And it didn't involve Kurt talking back, so he could lie back and close his eyes, burying himself in the smell of Blaine's woollen cardigan, and the feel of his leg brushing against Kurt's.

He ignored the hairs standing on edge over his legs and arms those times.

Kurt had drifted out from the words Blaine had been saying, only focusing on the tone of his voice, but a single word mingled amongst Blaine's blurred monologue jolted him from his hazy daydream.

"What?" he laughed, propping himself up.

"Hm?" Blaine cut himself off, shifting so he felt more turned towards Kurt.

"What did you just say?" he asked quietly, smiling weakly, waiting for Blaine to laugh at him.

"I... this article was just talking about a 'sexy new look,'" he repeated, shifting up on the bed. "Why?"

A short trill of laughter escaped in relief.

"God, I thought you'd started talking about sex to check if I was listening," he admitted.

"So, you weren't listening?" Blaine nudged his elbow, laughing as Kurt shot him a pathetic attempt at a glare. His laugh faltered as he caught the sly grin from Kurt, curling at his lips. "What are you grinning at?" he asked warily.

"Aren't you doing lessons in 'Sexy' in Glee?" Kurt chuckled. Blaine groaned, the magazine in his hands landing audibly against the bed, vibrating the mattress as it did.

"Santana said you were hilarious," Kurt said in as a plain a voice as he could without breaking into laughter, ignoring the indignant huff from Blaine. "Said she couldn't stop laughing at you."

Blaine's hand was over Kurt's side, giving him a small shove, clicking his tongue.

"I'm plenty sexy," he argued, a smug smile to his voice.

Kurt settled into his pillows again. "I'm not saying you're not." Blaine hummed in satisfaction but Kurt turned to him, quirking his eyebrows.

"Then again, I can't see if you have an ugly face or not."

His mouth was full of fluff the next second, a cushion hitting him squarely in the face. He scrambled it off, yelling in shock, chucking it back over to Blaine, whose laughter wobbled as the cushion must have hit him in the chest. The mattress dipped as he lay down, still coughing his broken laughter.

"You don't mean that," Blaine said with a small chuckle.

"No," Kurt grinned, sidling up closer to Blaine and settling back into the bed with him. "I don't."

"I mean," Blaine started, no longer any laughter in his voice. "You don't think being sexy is all in looks?" His voice was hesitant, breathing out a forced laugh to ease the situation.

Kurt pulled back from Blaine. "Well, for me, it kind of can't be," he replied, trying to keep the lightness in his tone, but the distance they'd pulled between them felt stiff, his chest tightening with the sudden weight pressed against it.

The bed dipped again as Blaine moved up, shuffling his legs, until he was pulled up, leaning against the wall with a soft thump.

Kurt followed him up, unaware of the pull.

"What do you find sexy?" Blaine asked, a small quirk to his voice Kurt couldn't place.

Kurt laughed, drawing his shoulders back, shaking his head.

"What?" Blaine's voice cut through and Kurt gave a short laugh.

"We're not talking about that," Kurt told him, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

He shifted against the bed sheets, praying for the conversation to turn, but Blaine poked him softly with his toes.

"Kurt," he chortled at him. "Go on; tell me." Kurt shook his head, brow furrowed in frustration, scowling in the track of Blaine's giggles. They stopped, Blaine coughing, with a small apology. "Please?"

"Why would you want to know?" Kurt quipped, raising his eyebrows. The sounds of cloth rubbing against the wall signalled a shrug from Blaine.

"Anything to see how Kurt Hummel ticks," he replied, knowingly, resigned smile to his voice.

"I..." he froze, determining the space between himself and Blaine carefully, measuring himself, holding a breath before he carried on. "It's about the voice," he admitted, blush rising to his cheeks. "I like a person's voice." He heard Blaine's short, thoughtful hum, imagining him gently nodding his head in understanding. Kurt could leave it at that, and they needed not ever bring the subject up again, let his blush die down and go back to listening to Blaine read. He could have. If he didn't feel the need to be so completely honest with Blaine he blurted stupid things out.

"It's about the body too," he added, swearing at himself, cheeks flaring as Blaine's silence spoke volumes.

"Body?" Blaine repeated, smiling, Kurt imagined, but his voice was soft. Kurt shifted further to the edge of the bed.

"I just mean that, what I mean is," he stuttered, warmth spreading down his neck. "I meant that I like being close to people." He paused but Blaine stayed silent, waiting for Kurt to carry on. "I like small things. Holding hands, f...feeling people. Intimacy. If I had that with someone I was in love with, that would be sexy enough for me. Oh my God, is my face on fire?" His hands shot to his face, covering his burning cheeks. He couldn't even sense how Blaine was reacting- smug smile, or dazed look of confusion. Possibly alongside an uncomfortable squirm.

"No, Kurt," he told him carefully, cold hand wrapping around his and pulling it away from his face. "I understand."

He threaded their fingers together, the brief squeeze leaving as the mattress dipped and Blaine's feet thudded softly to the floor. The sounds of Blaine's fumbling around the room echoed loudly through him but the blood had rushed to his head, sound tunnelling out, faint as it was masked with the own beating of Kurt's heart, the ghost of Blaine's fingers still against his. He smiled over to Blaine, who fidgeted tirelessly in the corner until music started playing, a triumphant laugh escaping as Kurt realised he'd been trying to get his iPod dock to work.

His feet curled out from beneath him to land gently on the floor, leaning up against the edge of the bed listening to Blaine flick through his playlists.

The song he stopped on rang loudly across the room, Kurt jolting up before he grinned, shaking his head.

"Shall I show you what I think being sexy is all about?" Blaine laughed from across the room, though Kurt could see through the light tone, the joking chuckle. He turned the music up and began to sing along, and even in his over exaggerated voice sang well along with the song. Kurt's face felt sore from smiling. Smiling because it was oddly comfortable.

Blaine had a way of making things oddly comfortable.

"It's all in the song and dance," Blaine shouted from over the music and Kurt's laughs which left him gasping as Blaine added, "Because I'm moving my hips in a very Elvis Presley-esque way."

"Oh God," Kurt snorted, lifting his hand up to his mouth.

"Now you can tell Santana how sexy I am and how I'm definitely succeeding in this assignment," he told him, sounding serious enough Kurt was sure for a moment he wasn't joking.

He couldn't retort before Blaine had jerked him up, feet wobbling slightly and he rammed into Blaine as he steadied his feet. Blaine grasped his hand and span him around, singing along joyously, before catching his other hand and swaying with him in large, over the top movements. It was nothing like their careful dancing in the auditorium, it wasn't anything like the times they'd danced to faster songs. Their feet bumped against each other, shoulders brushing and singing as they collapsed against each other, words of the song lost in their mixed laughter.

"Swivel your hips, Kurt?" Blaine said, snarky question in his voice.

"I am not," Kurt laughed over the music, poking Blaine in the chest, "swivelling my hips."

"You just don't have as much sex appeal as me, right?"

Kurt scoffed, falling backwards, landing softly with a small bounce against the edge of his bed. He reached across from himself until the smooth material ran between his fingers, gripping the cushion and throwing it in front of him. It hit Blaine with a soft thump.

"Shut up, muchkin," he chided, laughing as he blocked the cushion with his arms as Blaine threw it back.

"Oh, that hurt," Blaine snapped lightly, sliding over to Kurt on the bed smoothly, as the song came to an end, and dug his fingers lightly into Kurt's ribs, who flung back with a short squeal.

It was too late as Blaine surrounded him, backed up against the wall, leaving him to kick his legs pathetically as he tried to struggle away from Blaine's fingers tickling his sides.

"No..." he shouted through his gasps. "That's cheating! Stop! Blaine, stop," he batted him against his chest, breath shallow from his rapid laughter, hardly caring that his glasses dug in sharply as his face pressed against Blaine's chest.

He pulled up, hands pulling at Blaine's wrists until they were away from his sides, digging his own fingers into Blaine's ribs, with no result worth celebrating over.

"No use," he twitted. "Not ticklish," he added with a small dig at Kurt's side, Kurt flinching away.

Kurt groaned, hands reaching in front to shove Blaine. "You're failing your assignment," he told him. "I'm going to tell Santana how unsexy you are."

"Because I'm not ticklish?"

"Exactly," he shot, tilting his head and grinning wickedly, brow lifted.

"Good. If I fail," Blaine sighed overdramatically, "maybe then Rachel won't drag me to her house to write songs every night about eyebrow tweezers."

Kurt choked up his laughter, hands in front of his mouth as he coughed violently. Blaine leant into him, thumping his back softly.

"You think I'm joking!" he mumbled irritably. "But you didn't hear the headband song."

"Oh I'm sure you're very serious," he replied, small smile pulling at his lips. He paused, drawing himself up, curling his legs and leaning against the wall. "Is this for Regionals?"

Blaine hummed, far off and low.

"That's next week right?" he asked.

"Yes, it's already here. I can't wait," Blaine's voice was almost smiling itself, excitement bubbling from it. Enough for Kurt's mouth to curl, eyebrows lowered as Blaine's excitement bubbled through him.

"Me too, actually," he confessed, dipping his head. "You're all going to be amazing."

"Are you coming?" Blaine piped up, voice raised in a soft hopefulness Kurt didn't have the heart to squash.

His pause was enough of an indication, and Blaine babbled through, not leaving Kurt time to answer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that," his voice was hurried, Kurt imagining a pathetic hand gesture, waving off his question. "You don't have to come."

"What if I wanted to?" Kurt said slowly, feeling his ground, sensing Blaine freezing, picturing his confused frown, brows knitting together as he gazed over Kurt.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

He folded his hands across his knees and smiled over to the direction of Blaine's voice, somewhere perched on the end of his bed.

"It'll be fun, right? Dad's going anyway. I can tag along," he grinned, trying to cover his stomach twisting in double knots, which loosened only slightly at the sound of Blaine's breathy laugh.

"If you're sure," he repeated carefully.

A small laugh of "I have to come support you all" didn't sound to his own ears like a genuine enough answer but Blaine accepted it with a laugh and a giddy jump off Kurt's bed. The smile on his face was genuine even if he wasn't sure if he was trying to shrug off dread or excitement.

* * *

><p>The people around him were cheering and shouting, their voices muddling together while he pushed through crowds, hand holding tightly on to Blaine's. Pulling to a stop, he felt a small group of people pass, brushing against him. Cool fabric tickled his bare arms and he gripped his coat in his hands, pulling himself in tighter so not to bump into any of the strangers around him.<p>

"Look who I snuck backstage!" Blaine called, laughing, hand splayed out between Kurt's shoulder blades, pushing him forwards into the babble of loud exclaims of _"Kurt!"_ and _"Oh my God! What are you doing here?"_ His knees wobbled under the weight of multiple hands patting him on the shoulder and his inhaled sharply as arms wrapped around him, smothering him as the girls grabbed him, laughing against him.

His heart thrummed painfully and he pulled his arms up, trying to get them all to disperse.

"Space, guys," he gasped out, strangling a laugh. "I need space." He breathed in relief as they all stepped back and he shrunk in on himself again, hoping no other strangers would walk too close by.

The room could be any shape, any size, he could be stood at any part, near the door or opposite, by a window- and all the wanted was to pull Blaine to the side to describe it to him before his breaths became obviously anxious.

He talked to them all for a few minutes happily, coat grasped tightly against his side and cane pulled against him, ignoring that he was in a strange place where there were also strange people, he focused on the group around him. He was with friends. He was with a babbling group of overenthusiastic friends and Blaine was right here with them. He wished them luck, but he doubted many of them heard it.

Brittany had ignored the space rule, stepping closer and tracing over Kurt's suspenders. He smiled at her, always touched by those times she'd tagged along with him and Santana on their shopping trips and joined him in feeling the clothes on the racks.

Santana would tell him afterwards she'd closed her eyes too so she knew what Kurt felt like.

On that thought, he shot his head away from Brittany and to the direction of the chattering voices.

"Where's Santana?" he shouted over them, aware he still hadn't heard her talking even after ten minutes.

"Here," she spoke up, voice surprisingly close, towards his right. "Hey, Kurt, come over here with me a minute, would you?" Her voice was hushed and she brushed her fingers over Kurt's arm lightly, just as Brittany's pulled away and he heard her pad across to the others. He quirked an eyebrow at Santana, convinced she'd given a specific look to Brittany to make her turn away.

She pulled his arm lightly, directing him around, padding with him across the room, turning sharply around corners until the voices behind them were barely audible.

It was much quieter around here, their footsteps echoing loudly as they turned another corner and Santana pulled him to a stop.

"Santana," Kurt started hesitantly. "Where are we?"

"Don't get nervous," she sighed, voice distant as though her head was turned away from him. "We're in the hall round the back."

"Why? Are you going to kill me?" he quipped, with a tug at his lips.

She snorted, arm reaching out and pressing into his shoulder. He flinched back, resting a hand on the wall behind him, feeling the peeling paint beneath his fingers.

"Kurt," she said slowly. "Why are you here?"

He shifted up, head tilted to the side.

"To cheer you all on," he replied as though it was plainest thing to see.

"You've never done that before," she pointed out, taking her hand away from Kurt's shoulder.

"Well, I should have," he apologised.

"But you didn't," she sniffed. "So, why are you here?"

"I can't have a change of heart and want to cheer my friends on?"

She sighed, Kurt pictured her shrugging her shoulders, arms folded across her chest.

"No, you're right, I guess," she conceded. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable. I know how you are with unfamiliar places."

He smiled, scrunching his nose at her, her little laugh barely audible but he caught it.

"It's okay," he assured her. "Blaine said the same things when he asked me to come so-"

Her small shuffling footsteps skidded on the spot, and froze and she was looking directly at him. He could feel it. He raised his eyebrows in question at her short huff of air that escaped.

"Of course," she laughed humourlessly. "_Blaine_ asked you." His lips drew to into a thin line as he listened to her footsteps beginning stamp lightly again in front of him.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked sharply

"Well, we've all asked you enough times," she argued, her voice sharpening. "I asked you. And you didn't want to come. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." She spat the last part and Kurt shrank back.

"I'm sorry," he told her calmly, fingers relaxing on his cane, steadying himself to the sounds of her tapping foot. "But I wasn't comfortable last year with it. A year can make a huge difference you know."

Her shoes squeaked on the floor again and her body heat pressed against Kurt's side again as she closed in.

"That's not it," she said quietly, face close enough to Kurt's he was sure she was studying his face carefully. He wished he could melt into the wall and ignore her.

"You're always talking about him," she stated, voice a little harsh but forcing itself to stay soft. "What's going on with you two?"

Kurt reeled away.

"What... I... nothing," he spluttered. "We're just friends, Santana."

He expected her to snort. To laugh at him and tell him she could see right through his burning cheeks and stuttering lies.

Instead she reached her hand across the small space between them and brushed her fingers against his arm and held her hand there.

"I don't even know what's going on with you," she sighed. "You don't talk. I need you to talk to me."

"What?" he scoffed. "Like you talk to me about you and Brittany?"

It fell from his mouth before he could stop her hand freezing against his arm, before he could stop her pulling away brusquely.

"I didn't mean-" he tried to tell her quickly, but she slapped away his hand as he reached out.

"You know what," she spat, her voice sounding oddly thick. "Screw you, Hummel."

She turned on her heel and stormed away, the loud padding of her shoes against the ground leaving him alone in the back halls with the sound of her thick voice echoing through him.

Blaine found him a few minutes later, apologising and telling him he needed to leave, having to drag him out- or it felt like it, his feet lead on the floor, dragging across, ignoring Blaine's muttered and off hand questions about why Santana had left without him.

He ignored his dad too when he finally sat down, but he soon turned back to Carole, chatting excitedly and laughing. Everyone was laughing and shouting, muttering and jeering, while he sat silently chewing on the inside of his cheek, last conversation repeating over and over in his head.

He sat through the first school's performance with gritted teeth, hardly finding enough amusement to even roll his eyes at the embarrassing choice of song, although half way through when his dad muttered about the religious song choice, he allowed himself to laugh, thankful his dad was sitting through it just as uncomfortably.

He didn't fancy standing up even when he felt everyone around him doing so to clap- _the dancing must have been amazing because it didn't sound good at all_- and he stayed seated lacing and unlacing his fingers until his friends were on stage.

He didn't concentrate on the second school at all, thoughts drifting so he could focus on the soft murmurings behind him.

He gripped the side of his chair tightly as Santana's words repeated themselves.

_You're always talking about him._

Did he? Had he really? He hadn't noticed. But was that why Carole laughed fondly like that whenever he said Blaine's name? Was that really why Santana had been off with him backstage?

He didn't clap the second school until his dad nudged him, not even realising they'd finished, too lost in frustrated thoughts and wallowing in Santana's words.

_Not that she has any right to comment_, he thought bitterly.

Just when he was sure he'd frowned enough to give him permanent worry lines, he was listening to the Glee Club singing, and his face fell into an easy smile, listening to his friends singing and hearing their dancing. It was a different place, clapping along and cheering, even though moments before he'd been drowning within the body heat and noise.

He even pulled himself up when the music ran faster, onto his feet along with everyone else, feeling dizzy with overwhelming excitement, cheeks aching from his incessant smile that seemed glued to his face. The music held his smile and laughter and when it died down, and only the sound of clapping and cheering was left, he turned to his dad and pulled at his sleeve, begging for him to take him backstage.

He wasn't sure how they snuck in, but he forced his way through, Carole and his dad beside him, entering the room which was much too small to have this many bodies in. Bodies that pressed against him, thudding past, the sounds of laughter and tears mingled together, his dad's hands held firmly on his shoulders as he pushed in.

When the space opened up, his dad moved away, and Kurt sighed, relieved, not missing the warm bodies colliding against him as he ambled through, unable to see.

"Kurt!"

The shout came from close next to him, her hand gripped on his arm before he could stop her. Not a reassuring grip or comforting, but demanding.

Which is why he shrugged his arm from Santana, not feeling up to talking, pushing away until he heard another shout of his name and arms wrapping around him. His cane knocked against Blaine's legs, arms trapped in his embrace, but he buried his cheek against his shoulder. Ignoring the look he could picture on Santana's face as he congratulated Blaine and focused on how his chest shook with laughter.

Clenching his eyes shut and sinking himself in the cheering and chanting, pulling away from Blaine with a smile still sprawled across his face, feeling for the first time, as Puck and Sam clapped his shoulders, as Tina cheered alongside him, that he was beginning to become a part of something.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Again, thank you for all your comments. I love every one._


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

><p>The celebrations over their win at Regionals carried on for the next two weeks. Revelling in their euphoria, actually practising took a back seat, the group often breaking into as many renditions of New York New York as they could possibly come up with.<p>

And Kurt was there. Sometimes. He still refused to come to after school practice or involve himself too much, but it was more than he used to. He didn't just sit at the piano any more, watching in what would be silence if not for his laughter. Brittany had pulled him up and spun him around one or two lunch times and he'd gladly joined in.

Their sessions in the auditorium continued as normal after Regionals, and Blaine had asked, as carefully as he could, if Kurt wanted to go to Glee with him. His thoughts were still on those booklets he'd shown Kurt all those weeks ago, and the tiny steps they had to take before he could mention them again.

Kurt shook his head, arms tucked around himself protectively.

"Not yet," he told him, with a weak smile. "I'm enjoying this. I love spending time with you all but..." He paused, gesturing uselessly in front of himself. "The thought of going is actually daunting."

He found his hand leaning to grip Kurt's more often than he should, and sometimes he wondered if he really did it for Kurt, or for himself.

March rolled into April, the weather warmer and days longer, before he finally pulled up enough grit to ask Kurt what was really on his mind.

"Are you and Santana alright?" he ventured one afternoon, leaning against their lockers.

"What?" Kurt demanded, head snapping up. "What makes you say that?"

_I'm talking about the way she's been glaring daggers at me the past few weeks. I'm talking about how she looked like she was about to burst into tears when you blanked her at Regionals. I'm talking about how she's been silent in Glee Club and how you haven't talked to her during lunch times._

"Nothing," he settled on.

Kurt turned slightly frosty towards him for the rest of the afternoon, and he waited in the auditorium after school, wondering if he'd even show.

He did, shuffling in, cane held out in front, small frown twisting to force back what Blaine guessed would be tears as he slumped into the piano stool and immediately started playing.

Curling up on the floor against the stool almost automatically, he glanced up to watch Kurt play a slow, sad melody from beneath his fingertips. It was beautiful. In a hollow way. Hollow in the way Kurt's face bore no emotion, lips pulled into a full line, eyebrows knitted in only concentration.

When the song came to a close, Blaine lifted his hand up and tugged Kurt's arm, who looked down at the pull, expressionless face now turned into something more sombre.

"What happened?"

Kurt sighed deeply. "I don't really know. I got upset with her and... I said something about her and Britt."

"Oh."

"Oh," he echoed, without emotion.

They hadn't ended up getting much practice done for the rest of the session, talking idly as Kurt played some more melodies on the piano.

When he pulled up to pack away the music they hadn't even used, Kurt gripped at his sleeve.

"Do you want to come over to my house on Saturday?" he smiled, managed with a little force. "Dad and Carole are out until late and Finn's over at Puck or Quinn's. Either way," he raised his eyebrows, grin widening, "perfect for playing musicals very loudly."

Blaine smiled back, the earnest look on Kurt's face pulling at him.

"That sounds great," he answered genuinely. "Musical day it is then."

"Bring your copy of Les Mis," Kurt told him. "Rachel stole mine."

"Get it back off her," Blaine laughed, shaking his head.

"It's not that easy," Kurt groaned. "It's in her clutches and she'll never let go."

When he did turn up on Saturday morning, he'd had to knock very briefly so the coat pulled over his head and the DVDs clutched to his chest wouldn't spill from his hands as he sheltered himself from the torrential rain.

The door was flung open as quickly as his hand left it, dragging himself in, his coat dropping to the floor with a damp smack. Water dripped down from his clothes, his pants sodden through, leaving puddles across the floor of Kurt's hall.

"Don't worry about the mess," Kurt insisted, hands ghosting over Blaine's before taking the DVDs off him. "I've laid you some clothes out in case you were soaking." He directed Blaine towards his bedroom, with a small smile, before he disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

He rolled up his pant legs, so he wouldn't drip over the carpet as he made his way to Kurt's room, dirty water stinging his ankles. The door to Kurt's room was already ajar, a pair of sweat pants and a white t-shirt folded on his bed. He pulled his jeans off with some effort as they clung to him. Throwing them over the radiator, he moved to Kurt's bed and tugged on his pants, which hung over his feet he noted, rolling them up.

Leaving the t-shirt on the bed, his own still relatively dry, he made his way downstairs, the hall now clean of puddles, the kettle boiling in the kitchen.

"Hey," he greeted Kurt, turning into the room. Kurt was leaning on his elbows against the worktop, chin resting on his knuckles, a small quirk at his lips.

"Hi," Kurt replied, tilting his head a little. "Are you dry?"

"Slightly more, yeah," Blaine laughed, pulling out two mugs from the cupboard and searching for the tea bags. "I hate the rain," he added, mugs clicking against each other as he poured in the water.

Kurt shifted up, eyebrows raised, head cocked. "You do?"

"Is that so surprising?"

Kurt shrugged, lips twisting into a small frown. "You just strike me as one those people who love rain."

Blaine threw his head back and laughed, spoon spun idly in one of their mugs. Of course he would give that impression, Blaine Anderson, the happy kid who finds everything in the world wonderful. His eyes flickered to glance out the window, grey clouds tumbling over ahead, rain falling harshly against the windows and roof with a rhythmic pattering, falling quickly into the pools of water in Kurt's backyard.

"I love it," Kurt said quietly, the sound of the spoon clinking against the mug no longer the only sound between them. Blaine's brow creased, but a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"Why?" he asked when Kurt didn't continue.

"Why not?"

Blaine froze briefly, gaze drifting out through the window, to the dark and miserable puddles across the ground and lifting to the overcast sky.

It was dark and it was miserable and it was the opposite of the bright colours Blaine loved so much. When his eyes turned back to Kurt, he was leaning with his back against the worktop, knowing smile, eyebrow curved.

He didn't answer, and Kurt sighed, pulling himself up until he was rocking on his feet.

"Do you not think it's beautiful?" he asked, a curious whim to his voice.

"I thought you didn't like grey things?" Blaine reminded him. "Rain's grey. It's dark. Depressing."

"Not always," Kurt pointed out, fingers lacing neatly together. "It can sometimes be beautiful weather when it rains. Not when it's like this, I know," he waved his hand towards the window where the rain was pattering across. "But it's beautiful, can't you tell?"

Blaine paused, shifting his stare outside the window, and he shrugged, humming his disagreement. Kurt's shoulders slumped and he moved towards Blaine, reaching his hand across to find Blaine's and clasping them together.

"Come on," he insisted. "I'll show you." He pulled him roughly, keeping one hand on the worktop to guide him until it ended, fingers then brushing along the short piece of wall until they met the window of the back door, their tea left by the kettle untouched. He fumbled with the key jammed in the lock until it clinked and the door creaked open, a soft spray of rain falling down inches away from them.

A chill breezed in and goosebumps prickled down his arms. A splatter of water sprayed across as Kurt leaned forward and held a hand out, turning so the rain ran across the back of it and along his fingers, dripping to the ground. Blaine watched, an eyebrow lifting as he leant out another hand and cupped them so water pooled in his hands, until he let it fall to the ground and repeated the action.

Blaine dragged his eyes transfixed to Kurt's hands away and glanced up to his face, mouth settled into a sad smile that still looked so inherently happy, as if he was locked in a memory. As odd and as almost heartbreaking as it was, Kurt had never looked so peacefully beautiful.

He shook himself suddenly, pulling himself next to Kurt, shaking away the rush of blood to his head and following Kurt's lead, holding his hands out. Kurt's grin grew a little wider as he felt Blaine brush against his shoulder.

The water that ran down his hands was warm, trickling along his fingers until the droplets fell from them, into the puddles below the door.

He pulled his hands away, wiping them on his jacket but Kurt's remained stuck out, turning over once again, some drops running in wild patterns along the palm of his hand.

"See how beautiful it can be?" he smiled.

Blaine hummed but the sound was lost as a distant clap of thunder sounded.

"Still," he said as Kurt pulled his hands back inside, drying them on his jacket, "What about what you said about colour? I thought the weather you'd love would be something you could imagine the bright colours of."

Kurt's face remained blank, crease in his brow softening, head tilted so it faced outside.

"It's not something to do with... this," he raised a hand lazily to indicate his face. "I've always loved the rain." He paused, leaning back against the worktop, Blaine mirroring the movement against the wall behind him. Kurt curled his head around and smiled. The same eerily sad one he'd worn minutes before.

"It reminds me of my mom," he admitted, voice steady and gentle. There was nothing Blaine could think to say but a soft "Oh" and Kurt's head shifted again so it was turned to the side once more.

"She told me these stories," Kurt told him, fingers curling together in front of him. "Have you heard any Native American stories?"

"I can't say I have," he answered, leaning a little bit further in, in curiosity.

"Well, my mom used to tell me their stories," he smiled softly. "And the one about rain was always my favourite." He paused again, thumb running along his knuckles as he grazed over his bottom lip with his teeth carefully.

"My mom used to tell it," he started off, "by saying there was this Great Spirit who created man, and wanted all his creations to live in peace together." He lowered his head slightly, furrowing his forehead, disdain at how silly a notion that was.

"Anyway," he carried on, hand darting out to feel the rain again, "The story tells of warring tribes, and how the adults there became so enraged with one another, they banned their children from playing with each other."

He caught himself for a second, bringing his hand back from outside.

"One girl, though, couldn't obey, because she was very much in love with a boy she had been friends with her whole life," he let out a sad smile, his voice soft and musical in the way he told the story. "She couldn't stand the thought of never seeing him again and she tried to explain it to her parents. They ignored her, threatening the boy's life and promising her to another man in their own village."

He took a breath, Blaine not missing the emotion hidden behind his blank expression. Or the memories of his mother reading him bedtime stories hidden behind it too.

"And now desperate, she ran away, begging the boy she loved to go with her. They ran off together, not until later realising they had nowhere else to go. And that they could never return home."

Blaine leant towards Kurt, slightly, attention on nothing else- the rain now hardly even a background noise, even though it came down just as fast.

"The girl's parents soon found them, the father tried to kill the boy though he knew his daughter had left willingly. And without thinking, the girl jumped in front of the boy and an arrow pierced through her heart. Before she died, she told the boy she would always love him, and before anyone could stop him he stabbed himself through the heart too."

He reached out his hands again, catching the rain on his fingers.

"And, then, the skies went dark and the sun was gone. Lightning struck through the sky, thunder crashed across the land, awful rains pouring from the heavens. It became impossible to see, and by the time it had died down, the young girl's father saw the children's bodies were gone."

"That's a heart breaking story," Blaine cut through, voice cracking.

Kurt shrugged. "It's my preferred version of Romeo and Juliet. Knowing someone for years is a little more realistic than three days." He paused for a long second before a short laugh escaped.

"Not that it's realistic. The point of the story is meant to be that the 'Great Spirit' had its heart broken, that to this day, when it rains, it is its tears, there to remind us of our jealousy and hatred and what it can do. My mom always said that meant we had to look for the beauty in it too. That we can see love and devotion even when it seems like there is none."

He ducked his head, and Blaine's arm jolted, wanting to lean across and grip Kurt's arm, or hand, or just his shoulder.

But then Kurt shifted up, head tilted to face outside, and Blaine brought his hand back to his side.

"And I don't believe in a God, and I know rain is a lot more scientific than that," he finished with a short laugh. "But I always thought it was quite beautiful."

Blaine's eyes followed the line of Kurt's jaw, the curve of his nose, with his face still turned so Blaine could only take in his side profile, though his soft smile made him look a lot younger than he usually did.

"It is," he breathed, throat dry, heart beat pulsing in his temples as Kurt turned his head to smile, unable to remember that they'd been stood as close together as this.

Kurt bit his smile down and reached forward, fingers locking with Blaine's.

"Let's go play," he laughed, jerking Blaine's hand towards him and jumping carefully from the door into the yard, Blaine stood waiting for a second before he followed the pull of Kurt's hand.

"Kurt, our drinks-" he started, but he was cut off as he stumbled after Kurt until they rammed to a stop, Kurt spinning around, slightly breathless and giddy.

Rain soaked his hair through, running down his cheeks, collecting in his glasses, keeping his fingers locked tightly in Blaine's. He giggled, pulling at Blaine until their wet clothes brushed softly.

"Let's dance," he chuckled, bringing their hands up, loosening his grip on Blaine's other, placing one on his waist and spinning him once quickly before Blaine steadied them both, pulling his hands from Kurt's completely and gripping his waist.

"Kurt, stop," he said. "You'll catch a cold." He expected an argument, a line in his forehead and a complaint, but instead his lips curled, cheeks rising, raindrops catching in the corners of his mouth.

"No, but it's warm," he protested, giggling again. "Please."

Blaine dragged his eyes back along Kurt's face, to see him pull his glasses away and tuck them into his pocket. His eyes were only lightly shut, water now running along the bridge of his nose.

Blaine sighed, the eagerness of Kurt's request, begging him with a hopeful little smile, leaving him unable to say no.

His hands replaced themselves where they'd been and he turned Kurt slowly, eyes catching in the way his hair plastered itself to his face or how his drenched clothes were clinging to him, as were Blaine's.

Kurt tugged Blaine a little forcefully, indicating him to speed up.

"Why did you take off your glasses?" he asked a little breathily, turning them faster, feet splashing through the puddles and water leaking through to his socks.

"I couldn't feel the rain properly," he shouted over a low rumbling of thunder, smile gentle. He felt his own eyes drift shut, taking in the droplets running along his cheeks, his hair loosening, sticking against his face, water tingling as it ran from his hair down his neck. His shirt gripped to his skin, wet through with warm water, the splashes of puddles drowning their feet.

Their spins became less co-ordinated, until it felt like all they had been doing was kicking water at one another. His eyes flew open at Kurt's snorted laughter by his ear, colliding their chests together, his own chest hitching with each trembling laugh.

Kurt pulled himself up, gasping softly, balancing with hands braced on Blaine's shoulders. His eyes stayed closed, and droplets caught on his eyelashes. He studied over Kurt's face, drinking it in, one other rare moment to see as much now as he possibly could.

"This is fun," Kurt thanked him, a few words barely audible over the harsh winds and rain that cascaded from above them.

"You can..." Blaine swallowed, eyes flashing over Kurt's face. "You could open your eyes," he suggested, Kurt flinching and, though his fingers curled a little tighter, his hands staying on Blaine's shoulders. "I only mean... so you're more comfortable."

The constant flickering of Kurt's eyelashes and the twitch of his eyelids had given it away. It wasn't so easy, keeping eyes shut constantly.

He shook his head, small smile shot Blaine's way, arms slipping down to grip the front of his shirt, giving him a little shake.

"I'm fine," he insisted, through a shaky laugh. "It's okay. With my eyes closed, I'm fine. We can prete-" His voice broke, smile still intact, but his chin rising slightly, jaw set.

Blaine couldn't hear anything other than his own heart or the rain pouring down, throat tightening. He didn't need Kurt to finish that sentence.

_We can pretend I'm normal._

Blood rushed through his ears, and he swallowed painfully, not knowing if he was blinking to keep rain from his eyes or for the burning in them to stop. His gaze lifted up to follow the line of Kurt's mouth to the bridge of his nose.

"You can trust me, you know," he whispered, a little thickly. Kurt's jaw softened, lips parting before pulling into a thin line, as he nodded. His hands, that Blaine had forgotten were curled in the front of his shirt, loosened their grip; Blaine shifted a little closer.

It was almost with an invisible pull, his hand drifting upwards, until it ghosted over Kurt's cheek.

"I know," Kurt said finally, leaning into the whisper of the touch, shivering in the rain. Blaine's eyes were glued to Kurt's closed ones, focused again on the small flutter of his eyelashes, as Kurt's hands drifted up. They skimmed over his shoulders and snuck around the back of his neck, until they threaded through his soaked hair, tugging softly through.

As mildly uncomfortable as it was being as drenched as he was and this wrapped up with Kurt, Blaine couldn't pull away. Shivering and warm all at once, his eyes were still locked on the trail of rain droplets running down Kurt's now relaxed jaw line.

"I didn't know your hair was so curly," he shivered, his tone flat, as though he wasn't concentrating on the words he was saying, attention turned to the tiny thumb stroke on his cheek deflecting water.

Blaine's breaths came out shallow with each rapid pulsing of his heart. A part of him yearned to pull back and stop poking at why he couldn't tear his eyes from Kurt's face, how his bangs dripped with water that then ran along his nose and fell off the end. Or the way drops slipped down his lips. The biggest part of himself yelled to not tilt his head up so he could feel Kurt's own quick breaths against his cheek, especially when Kurt's fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck.

His eyes drifted shut as he leaned in closer, careful and slow, hand twitching against Kurt's cheek, until he was sure Kurt could feel his breath tickle his lips.

With a crash of thunder, Kurt's fingers ripped from his hair, and he stumbled away. Blaine's eyes flew open, catching how Kurt's had for a slight second before he forced them shut.

"We should get inside," Kurt said stiffly, though his shoulders quivered.

"Kurt-"

"Please, Blaine," he croaked, Blaine hoping he'd imagined the slightly harsh tone in his voice. He reached his arms out for Blaine to take and, after a moment of hesitation, he held Kurt by the hand and led him inside, both dripping puddles along the tiled floor.


	11. Chapter 10

_A/N: Okay, wow. Sorry for such a late update. I think it's been over a month I am so sorry. My excuse is I have had a lot to do these past few weeks and so much going on as well as my exams. My exams finish at the end of this month so once they're over I am back to writing and finishing this off. It probably won't get updated again until after my exams are finished but that isn't too far off. Thank you for being so patient, I adore you all._

_Only a few more chapters left now..._

_Thank you for all your lovely comments. They really help when I'm trying to get myself to write!_

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><p>Chapter 10<p>

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><p>He expected Kurt to call him out when they pulled themselves back into the house, drenched and pouring water across the kitchen floor. After the way he forced the door shut, he expected him to snap around and yell at Blaine for abusing his trust like that. Because that was what he'd done after all- or had felt like. His mouth was drying out as he tried to form some kind of apology, some attempt at a promise that he'd never do it again. It was just going to be that one time, because he hadn't seemed able to stop himself.<p>

But Kurt did nothing. Instead he reached down and rolled his pant legs up to avoid further dripping, shivering as he did and Blaine's stomach dropped because Kurt had lied and he was cold. He was freezing and shivering because Blaine had let him stay out there.

He had no idea what to do except stay frozen still, the legs of the borrowed pants now unrolled and dangling over his feet, soggy and dirty from the rain. Kurt leant across the worktop and grabbed the air, and then a little further until his aimless fingers clasped around a towel. He threw it to the floor, one foot atop of it as he started to move it around in circling motions to soak up where he expected the puddles they'd left to be.

Blaine seemingly shivered out of his trance, unable to leave Kurt to just guess hopelessly at what he was cleaning up, and grabbed for a towel in the drawer he knew the Hummels kept them in. Kurt had managed it alone earlier in the hall but there had only been a few sodden footprints, easy to guess where to clean. Rolling the pant legs back up and dropping to his knees he began to dry up as much of their mess-_his mess_- as he could. They completed their work in an eerie silence- apart from Blaine asking where they kept the mop and Kurt's stiff answer. Blaine had flinched but collected it anyway, wringing the mop until the floor was as clean as they could get it before they began dripping all over it again.

The rain outside was pattering slower against the windows and roof, Blaine glancing out the window as he poured their cold, untouched tea down the drain, to see the clouds dispersing and tiny slithers of blue visible amongst the grey.

How ironic, now the sky was brightening Blaine felt like doing nothing more than curling in on himself, holed up indoors. He turned tentatively, eyes trained over Kurt. Kurt who looked so small, clothes clinging to him, hair sticky against his small, youthful face, stood with arms folded tightly across his chest. Water still dripped from his clothing, his hair, his face, droplets caught in his dark glasses.

He looked so scarily small, so lost, even in his own house, that all Blaine wanted to do was wrap him up and not let go, even though after what had happened, it was the last thing he should do. The best thing to do would be to get Kurt to go change, warm up and dry himself off, to stop him from shivering while Blaine gave the kitchen another clean.

He didn't say anything. He remained leant against the worktop, eyes skimming over Kurt, stomach eating up at him from inside itself, the silence between them so very heavy and so foreboding to break.

Kurt did it, though.

"I'm not feeling too good," he muttered, turning his head away. "I think I need to get warm." Blaine moved forward smoothly, ready to help, but fumbled back as Kurt added, "So maybe you should go home and get warmed up, too." The smile on Kurt's lips as he turned his head back around pulled so forcefully it looked as though it would tear him apart and, _God, _ Blaine just wanted to hold him.

He didn't bother arguing. With a barely there mumbled _okay _in reply, he rushed out as fast as he could carry himself, throwing the borrowed pants into the hamper in Kurt's room as he dragged them off and pulled his own back on, along with his still damp coat. He collected up his DVDs Kurt had left on top of the player, and then hesitated, placing his Les Mis one back down because Rachel still had Kurt's, and even though he wouldn't notice it there, his dad could and Kurt might just take it as a pathetic form of apology for breaking unspoken rules. About boundaries and trust and, God, Blaine hoped at that moment he hadn't screwed everything up.

Kurt saw him to the door, and just about broke Blaine as he said goodbye, his hug achingly short and cut off, and it was all Blaine could do by biting his lip and throwing his DVDs into the passenger seat as he clambered back into his car to not burst into tears.

The drive home was long and drawn out-a blur of pictures flashing in the corners of his eyes and a seemingly endless road ahead, he could barely fathom when he got home how he made it through.

Once he made his way back into the house, musicals left scattered in the car, he finally curled up, too tired to take off his wet clothes or even make his way upstairs. He collapsed at the bottom of them and felt only sick at himself, but he didn't feel like crying. He barely ever felt like doing so, but the bile rising in his throat begged to differ. He forced himself up, fumbling upstairs, peeling his clothes away as he did, knowing as long as he was doing something, he could forget to worry.

He busied himself for the rest of the day with cleaning, and checking his phone, and homework, music practice, and staring at Kurt's name in his contact list, and catching up on his overdue English essay, and hovering his finger over the call button, and placing all his musicals back on his shelf, and glancing at the phone he had tried to hide under a pile of throw pillows.

He ignored the pull to his phone until it finally rang around seven. He flew across to his bed, throwing away his pillows until he found it, pressing the answer button in a flurry of anxiety, and worry rolling away from him.

"Kurt?"

"Um... no. Though apparently my name looks similar enough in your phone for you to make that mistake," was the answer returned to him and with a sigh, he fell back into the pile of disarrayed pillows.

"Hey, Rachel," he mumbled. "Sorry, I didn't look at the caller." He slumped against the strewn pillows, only half-listening as Rachel continued to talk. The truth being he zoned out more than once, mind wandering to whether Kurt would try to ring him in the time it took for Rachel to talk about Nationals, then Finn for a bit, and then New York, with a healthy dose of Finn towards the end.

"Isn't Nationals still a month away?" he mumbled into the phone, cutting her off as she listed more original song ideas, imagining her ticking them off on her fingers, phone pressed against her cheek with her shoulder.

"It's never too early to prepare, Blaine," she retorted, a little bitingly. "I thought you'd understand that." He gave a small, non-committal grunt in reply, rolling over to curl up on his side.

Rachel sighed down the phone. "Sorry I seem to be taking up your precious time, Blaine."

He shifted a little, twisting to get comfortable.

"No, Rachel, I am listening," he assured her. "I'm just tired."

"Good," she said stiffly, he imagined with a tight nod, probably sat ramrod straight, legs neatly crossed as she nattered down the phone. "But perhaps we should talk about it another time when you aren't so distracted." He grunted in reply, barely caring to try and sound interested, resting himself into his bed. There was a shuffle as she shifted down the other end. "How was Kurt's by the way?"

He didn't manage to hide his groan as he buried his head into the pillows and tried to bury himself from the shame burning his cheeks. Of how he had been turned out the house, while Kurt stood with his hair dripping, and shivering, arms folded tightly, a strong block between himself and Blaine.

His stomach twisted in double knots, ears ringing, bringing himself to say something, but feeling too... empty... stupid... hopeless to carry on.

"Blaine?"

Rachel's voice was soft down the other end. She could muster up those moments, he'd found, when she wasn't as self-centred as she could usually be. Not as demanding nor as questioning. Those moments when he'd been around her house and she'd seen his face and instantly turned the brashness in her voice down, because she could sense something was up.

They were a lot more alike than he would have initially liked to admit.

He took a whisper of a breath to calm himself, swallowing a thickness he couldn't let Rachel hear.

"I screwed up, Rach," he admitted, rolling over so he was lying once again on his back, blinking back the burning in his eyes.

"Oh, Blaine, what happened?" she asked gently, a hint of curiousness in her tone, but Blaine ignored it.

"I-" he paused, with a sharp inhale. "No offense, Rachel, but you're a bit of a gossip."

It was a short, indignant huff, and Blaine winced, afraid he had touched a nerve. But she continued, however a little sharply. "I'm only trying to help."

He ran his fingers along his comforter, the fabric soft against the pads of them, stealing a moment to prepare himself.

"We were... dancing," he started slowly, her little hum down the phone urging him to carry on. "I don't know exactly what happened... we were... I just..." He sat up, crossing his legs, rubbing his temple, rearranging a mad rush of words into some kind of coherent sentence. "I think I just got caught up in the moment, Rach. And I... I tried to kiss him."

The silence down the line was deafening. His breath bated, hardly aware of his grip on the phone, he waited- just for her to say _something_. His voice had drifted off towards the end, mumbling in his embarrassment. A chance, perhaps, she hadn't heard or couldn't catch what he had said.

"You tried to kiss him?" she repeated slowly.

"Yes. I know. I shouldn't-"

"I'm not sure I see the problem here," she cut through instantly, and the words he'd prepared dropped from his mouth as she struck him dumb. At his silence she continued, "I thought you and Kurt were... you know... not together but..._together_."

"What? No!" Blaine exclaimed, jumping slightly at the judgement. "We're just friends- I don't see him like that. He's my-"

He should have known Rachel Berry's soft moments lasted as long as the time between her having a solo and demanding another did. He should have remembered she could wriggle anything out of anyone, leaving next to no prisoners.

"You tried to kiss him," she interrupted. "And you only like him as a friend?"

He glanced down to his fingers, the ones curled up his bed sheets, extremely interested all of a sudden in how the fabric twisted around them, chest a little tight, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to imagine a way to answer her and hoping it would make sense.

"I care about him a lot," he started. "But when you spend a lot of time with someone, especially in the proximity Kurt and I spend time together..."

He let himself fall back across the bed, tucking a hand behind his head so he no longer played with the fabric of his comforter but the frizzing curls at the nape of his neck. There was nothing to say other than it had been in the whirl of the moment that he had been caught in. That he had seen Kurt and the only thing he wanted to do was to step closer and keep him there, and kiss away the rain that fell into the corners of his smile. He forced the words down, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but he gave the excuse, anyway, quickly followed by a short scoff from Rachel.

"Don't say that," she tittered. "Friends don't just have a sudden urge to make out with other friends."

He rubbed his eyes in frustration, his head almost splitting with the pain he'd given himself over fretting, but she was wrong. Because she wouldn't understand. She _couldn't_ understand.

"You don't ever get that feeling when you're with someone close?" he asked tentatively. "You must do, right?"

"Yes," she answered after a beat, voice incredibly soft, and he grinned, poised to prove his point until she finished. "With Finn."

He held back a groan.

_Quick, quick, quick, change the subject before she starts ranting about him_.

"Well, I hate to break it to you," he began, "But Kurt didn't exactly react in the clichéd, fairytale way so..." His voice drifted again, a whole new wave of shame replacing the dwindling older one.

"What happened?"

Oh, how he missed the Rachel with the soft questions, instead of demanding curiosity.

"He seemed to want me out of the house pretty quickly to be honest," he told her, voice quiet, swallowing thickly, fingers twining back into his comforter. Rachel stayed quiet apart from a very short _Oh_ and he rubbed at his eyes again- this time less in frustration.

"I upset him," he told her, voice heavy, "I went too far into his personal space. I made him uncomfortable and I..." Rachel seemed frozen down the other line as his words came out more frantically, though he kept a control over himself by sitting back up to not burst into tears. "I was supposed to try and make him feel better. Because he and Santana haven't talked in weeks and he misses her, I can tell. And I just did the opposite, Rachel, and he probably doesn't want to talk to me. He's going to feel so crap and alone and I can't believe I made him feel so uncomf-"

"Okay, okay!" Rachel broke through, with a sharp raised voice. "Take a breath, Blaine. For goodness sakes, breathe!" He did as she said, the first few breaths coming shakily, his chest hitching, until they came easier, and softer.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," she said gently after a few seconds of silence. "I know you must feel awful. But Kurt likes you. He likes you a lot. So, this is not going to ruin anything, okay?" He nodded, humming slightly, drained and tired and just wanting to curl up and forget this day- which had started so perfectly- wishing it would just burn away in his memory. Rachel paused a moment before adding, "I guess you can't be feeling too good about being the reason Santana isn't talking to Kurt..."

His head snapped up, heart jumping to his throat before feeling like it had fallen down and rested in his stomach, weighing it down. "What? I thought it was something about Brittany?" He couldn't even make his voice sound shocked, the hollow sound echoing down the phone sounding nothing like him. But he couldn't pretend the thought hadn't passed through his mind.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she tried to backtrack quickly, "I didn't know you didn't know. I thought she'd made it clear to you. I'm sorry."

"I stand by that you are a blabber mouth," he said, blankly. The glares from Santana, how her eyes had rested on him the past few weeks with a new coldness that chilled him right to the bones, made sense. Maybe Kurt did say something about her and Brittany, but he had no doubt that he had been a catalyst in that conversation, in their friendship fraying until it snapped so it was held only by thin threads. Perhaps it was why he had tried so hard to cheer Kurt up.

"What exactly have you heard?" he ventured to ask, a little intrigued.

"Well," Rachel strung out the word slowly. "Tina told me that Mike told her that Brittany told him that Santana told her-"

Blaine scoffed. "The level of trust you all have for each other is overwhelming me," he remarked, dryly, more to himself.

"-that she was pissed because Kurt's been spending less and less time with her since you've been in the picture," she finished without missing a beat, even between Blaine's interruption.

"Right." His head rested against his knees, wondering if his heart could plummet any further, or if a person could really drown in guilt.

"That's what I heard," she said, and he could almost see the little shrug as she did. "I mean, I know she's always kept her eyes on him but I didn't even think they were _that_ close."

With a short huff, he lifted his head up again, rubbing circles into his temple. "I just screw everything up." The tone of his voice- how whiney he sounded, and pathetic- stung him and he winced at Rachel's exasperated sigh.

"It's not your fault, Blaine," she assured him. "You can't help the crazy things you do when you fall in love."

He couldn't hold back his snort even if he had tried to. "I'm not in love with him," he insisted, and maybe his feelings for Kurt were muddled and wound together and knotted and confusing and perhaps he couldn't understand them fully but he knew that much.

"Come on, Blaine," she said, voice slightly scorning. "You pretty much came to a realisation today-"

"Wanting to kiss someone is not even on the same level as falling in love, Rachel," he shot back, pointedly. He froze a second before adding slowly, "Besides, falling in love would feel a lot more... something more than _that_."

He pictured a roll of the eyes to accompany her snort down the phone.

"How would you know?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he replied, voice a little edgy. "I've read about it?"

"Wow," Rachel breathed, dryly, followed by an achingly long pause.

"But you love him," she said, voice flat, a statement that fell as simply and as surely from her mouth as if she were telling him her own feelings about Finn.

He didn't reply for a long moment, phone pressed to his ear, churning the words over in his head.

"I care about him so much, I do."

Rachel didn't seem to think she had to take it any further than that, thoroughly convinced she'd planted enough seeds to grow thoughts that would bother Blaine for the rest of the night.

And she had. Once he'd said goodnight to her, placing his phone down, having given up hope of a call from Kurt, he couldn't stop thinking.

Thinking that saying he cared about Kurt didn't even touch on how he did feel about him. How Kurt was everything he strived to be, how he admired everything about that fiery strength that so many people just mistook for a cocky self assured attitude. Yet how his cracks were so easy to find if he got close enough, for him to dig his fingers in, to hold them together and hold them in their place. And how Kurt could do that alone, without Blaine. How Blaine knew, if he let him do so, Kurt could find a way to put Blaine back together better than he could do for Kurt.

And there was how he wanted Kurt close. He wanted to hold his hand, or squeeze his shoulder, or tuck loose hairs behind his ear.

Or lean in and kiss him until he could feel the curve of his smile against his lips.

He just wasn't sure if it was a rushed stupidity to label it love when he'd always been taught relationships built slowly. It should take longer to feel something like love. Or so the voices of his parents whispered to him in the back of his mind, tangling with the web of thoughts grown from Rachel's words.

He'd have to talk to Kurt at school, lead him off to the side to apologise and tell him he hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable. And could they still be friends because the thought of anything else was a dagger twisted in his gut.

The rest of Sunday was spent drumming pencils against worksheets and staring blankly at a computer screen, his phone beside him in case it rang, in case Kurt wanted to talk and tossing and turning in bed as he watched the numbers on his clock reach closer to midnight, and then one and then two so when he stumbled out of bed at six. His eyes were heavy and scratchy, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and pass out.

There was no one near Kurt's locker when he arrived there a little later, coffee in hand- having had a few cups himself- and apology drummed into his head so it would roll off his tongue easily. Kurt was always at his locker. Always.

Blaine turned on his heel and scurried around a corner, eyes flickering up to the clock to check how long he had before class, hurrying along so his feet tripped up on the floor a couple of times. He wasn't thinking when he saw Santana at her own locker, instinct ahead of brain, asking, "Have you seen Kurt?"

It was with the dark glare as she snapped her head up to study him, and her eyebrows knitted in quiet fury, that he decided to turn away again, hurrying before she really did take razor blades out of her hair.

He wasn't in any of their classes together, nowhere to be found at lunch, Blaine's feet tired from the countless circles as he walked around school until he finally made his way back to class.

On his way out of last period, Rachel came skidding down the corridor, colliding with a smack and forcing Blaine back into four students crammed into a bottleneck in the doorway. He gripped her wrist and dragged her away, apologies yelled over his shoulder to the grumbling students behind him. He rounded on Rachel but her words left too quickly, in too much of a flurry, for him to berate her.

"He's in the auditorium. GO," she insisted with a push, and his brain caught up with his feet, carrying him automatically.

He was curled over the piano, notes playing softly as they echoed around the stage, and Blaine approached him quietly, watching sadly as Kurt played the notes without any conviction.

He coughed, Kurt bolting up and snapping his head around, a fleeting look of shock across his face before he straightened up. His skin looked paler than usual, hair stuck up at the front from how he had been leaning against it. His shoulders drooped and behind the shock, he was worn out and haggard. Blaine had no doubt if Kurt took of his glasses, he'd see bags beneath his eyes.

"It's me! I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, expecting Kurt to shift away, to try and get up and leave, but instead his lips curled up and he rolled his shoulders, visibly more at ease when he heard Blaine's voice.

Blaine sighed, dropping his head in relief.

"Hi," he replied a little weakly, voice rough.

"Are you okay?" Blaine ventured softly, toeing over towards Kurt, as he leaned back against the piano. "I didn't see you in any of our classes today." The small upturn on his lips fell and he breathed a little deeply.

"I had to go to a doctor's check up this morning," he told him, "I forgot to tell you. I'm sorry. I didn't get in until after lunch." He sniffed, rubbing the side of his nose absently and Blaine's feet took a few more steps forward.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling a little arm as he faced Kurt. Kurt looked up from where he'd been rubbing his temple and frowned.

"Sorry?"

"For what happened on Saturday."

Kurt's mouth fell slightly open, in surprise or realisation Blaine couldn't tell. "Oh."

And then he turned to reach by the bottom of his stool, where his bag lay open, and felt around inside it, twisting back with the DVD Blaine had left at Kurt's in hand. "Yeah, you left this," Kurt said needlessly. "So I brought it in so... um... here. I watched it though," he babbled, "I mean it was there for me to so I-"

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up again, mouth falling into a soft line, his hand stretched out for Blaine to take the DVD. Blaine didn't take. He wouldn't take it- not just yet, so Kurt could use it as an excuse to deflect the conversation.

"Keep it," he insisted.

Kurt's frown deepened.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, a little more firmly. His shoulders sagging, hands-with the DVD- falling to his lap, Kurt's head dropped.

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you sorry?"

It wasn't the question Blaine had expected- he thought it would be obvious, seeing as Kurt had asked him to leave so soon after. Unless Kurt was testing him, making sure he was sure of his reason for apologising.

"I made you uncomfortable," he answered with little thought, and Kurt's chin raised, brow creased. "That's why you asked me to leave so soon, right?"

"I..." Kurt began to say, but faltering in his word, head dipping down. "No, that wasn't it." His fingers stroked the spine of the DVD slowly. "I was overwhelmed. And I felt stupid. It all felt stupid. Dragging you out there like that-"

"It wasn't," Blaine tried to argue.

"But I felt like it was. And then you..." his voice trailed into nothing once more.

Blaine shifted eyes over Kurt in the way they always were and he waited. Kurt tilted his head and said, in a wavering voice, "You don't make me uncomfortable, Blaine, trust me." He reached a hand out, spreading his fingers, inviting Blaine to thread his with them. When he did, when he had Kurt's warm hand in his, his shoulders rolled back, he breathed slowly, he melted within the small touch.

"I do," he whispered, without thought to speaking. Kurt squeezed his hand. And his breath stuttered, pulling his hand slightly. For a flash of a moment Blaine was sure he was going to ask him to really kiss him, with the way he lifted his head up and his lips parted in question. As his eyes flickered over Kurt, the jolt in his stomach signalled an overwhelming wave of want, because _God_ he wanted to.

"I wanted to ask you something," Kurt started slowly, threading and rethreading their fingers, the brush of skin leaving Blaine's tingling.

"Uh huh," he replied, voice fighting to stay steady.

"On Thursday... I want to go to glee club." Blaine's head stopped spinning, the hand in his was just a hand once again, his heart ceased erratically beating like a trip hammer, and he looked at Kurt. "Would that be okay?"

Blaine's face spilt into an instant grin, Kurt sounding so unsure, and he laughed. He threw himself at Kurt, linking his arms around him and holding him in a vicelike grip. Kurt's laughs joined his somewhere in there, his arms holding Blaine just as tightly.

"Blaine," Kurt gasped.

"Sorry," Blaine laughed, pulling away. "But Kurt... Kurt this is wonderful. Kurt..."

He rested his hands on Kurt's shoulders and steadied himself, and with the subduing shakes from beneath his hands steadying Kurt as well.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. "I mean... what changed? Last week you said you weren't ready."

Kurt shrugged. "I was thinking about it all weekend," he said slowly. "And I just... it's now or never. I'll always put it off." Blaine's smile fell slightly, catching to something missing in Kurt's explanation, but then Kurt smiled that grin where his nose crinkled and Blaine lost whatever point he wanted to make.

Thursday couldn't come fast enough. The rest of Glee all eyed him suspiciously during the Tuesday and Wednesday practices as he bobbed in his chair, feet unable to stay still, smile turning his lips seemingly without prompt. With a promise to Kurt not to tell anyone about Thursday, he stayed silent. Mike shrugged at him a couple of times, but Santana's eyes felt burning on his skin, even when he turned away from her gaze.

On Thursday, he met Kurt at their lockers before glee club, the last few minutes now showing the different colours of nervous excitement: Blaine's bobbing feet, and Kurt's fingers playing in the hem of his shirt. Blaine pulled his hand away and into his.

"Lead the way?"

Kurt smiled before his lips pulled into a thin line and he turned down the corridor, cane in front, finding his way, Blaine following, just as they had done that first day in January.

When they made their way into the choir room, they were greeted with eyes all turned towards them, eyebrows raised, and a storm of questions, chairs squeaking as people moved up. As Mr. Schuester tried to sit everyone back down, and Blaine pulled Kurt away from the bundle of excited hands trying to hold him, his eyes fell on the still occupied chairs. Artie and Quinn both looked like they'd put two and two together and were smiling softly. Brittany was rocking back and forth in her chair, staring longingly to the excited bubble, but eyes flashing to Santana on the other side of the room, who sat with arms folded and stared intently at her shoes.

Once the crowd dispersed, and Kurt brushed his clothes down a little, he spoke out to Mr Schue.

"Would it be okay if I just sat in?"

Before he could answer Kurt, they were interrupted from a laughed scoff from the other side of the room.

"What are you meant to do? Watch?"

Blaine rounded, having enough of the weeks of glares, and unwarranted insults, ready to tell Santana she couldn't say things like that, but when he did, he faltered. The soft smile on her face reciprocated in Kurt's.

"Actually, I don't need such banal ways to observe," he replied coolly. Santana's eyes flashed to Blaine, and he stared steadily back.

She held his gaze with a questioning look, and he wasn't sure of it was a harsh or innocently quizzical one. But as soon as her eyes fell back on Kurt, her expression softened. For all the time she said looking out for him was a chore she did to get in Coach Sylvester's good books, it took only the look on her face to confirm those were lies. Kurt had already moved to sit down to find a seat, holding onto Blaine's arm as he did, when she spoke up again.

"It'd be good to finally get someone other than Berry singing all the show tunes," earning an indignant grumble from Rachel but Kurt turned a soft smile toward her. She returned it sadly, though it stayed invisible to him.

Kurt integrated himself into the group as easily as if he'd always belonged, because he practically always had. The only difference this time being that a teacher was actually present and they were focusing on glee club tasks, not aimless jamming during lunches.

"Mr Schue really does go on a lot," Kurt muttered from the corner of his mouth part way through practice. "And is anyone going to do a duet off? This is far less dramatic than I hoped it would be." Blaine coughed into his hand violently to suppress his laughs. He'd turn to see Kurt's smile throughout and grin himself, feeling light and oddly warm.

Nearing the end of practice, Blaine had to tear himself from the seat next to Kurt to join the group labelling ideas for new songs, though threw short glances over his shoulder to Kurt, who was talking animatedly with Brittany. He was nodding along to something Brittany was saying. As Blaine glanced upwards, he saw interest light Santana's eyes. Tina elbowed him below the ribs, a faraway question asking his opinion forcing him to turn back, though his interest had fairly waned. When he looked back a few seconds later, Santana had joined their conversation. She took Kurt's arm to prop him up.

"Mr Schue?" Kurt asked, a little too quietly over the group's discussions, their teacher too caught up between Rachel and Mercedes to even hear himself think, let alone Kurt. Kurt coughed, and repeated a little louder, "Mr Schue?"

The group went nearly quiet, and Mr Schue looked up.

"I... um..." Kurt shifted, as though aware every pair of eyes had been turned on him in the silence. "I wanted to audition." Blaine smiled softly, though when he looked back to Mr. Schuester his brow was creased.

"You don't have to, Kurt, you're in." Kurt shook his head.

"Everyone else had to audition to get in," he argued. "I want to audition." He gave a small smile in the direction of their group, Blaine hoping that really, it had been for him. Everyone made their way back to their seats as Mr Schue nodded and gave Kurt the okay- to which Kurt added, "I wanted to play the piano and have someone sing with me. Is that alright?"

"Sure, Kurt, who did you want to sing with?"

Blaine had already turned to go back to his seat, halfway there, before Santana gripped his arm and his feet stuttered against the floor. He glanced up to her in question, pulling his arm away, but she just shrugged and turned him slightly.

"Blaine," Kurt answered. His head snapped up to Santana, the one he'd thought he was going to sing with- they could use it, he thought, to get them talking, which would lead to them making up, and hanging out again so he wouldn't have to be on either end of their bitter feelings because they both felt too strangely empty without the other. As his eyes met hers, she smiled and nodded, and with a little push on Blaine made her way back to sit next to Brittany.

He steadied himself in front of Kurt, who still waited for his answer.

"I don't know what you're going to sing," he pointed out in a whisper against Kurt's ear, the response from him a short laugh, a tiny smile, hand gripping his arm almost too tightly.

"You'll know it."

He made his way to the piano and sat carefully on the edge of his stool. Blaine shifted around, eyes catching those of the rest of the group, all watching Kurt attentively as he played random notes. He looked up.

"Ready?" His voice was bright, and Blaine nodded and answered, a little too softly, but Kurt heard him.

The song began, slowly at first and then Kurt's fingers sped up on the keys themselves and it only took those few seconds for Blaine to realise the song. The song that had played once in the background on Kurt's iPod one evening doing homework, one which had fixed itself in Blaine's memory as he heard Kurt hum along absently. The one he'd joined in on just as absently until their soft humming had reduced to nothing as the song had carried on in the background, Kurt's voice wavering when he realised Blaine was there still with him.

Not that that exactly would mean Blaine would remember it. It had been months ago now- the first couple of weeks they had known each other. Except that night, he had gone home and downloaded it, put it on his own iPod and how Kurt had heard it playing on one of his playlists weeks later and smiled, reaching across and brushing his fingers along Blaine's. Other than it always seemed to be on one of their playlists in the background, it was a song Blaine often let himself forget about, until it was there, and his throat felt too tight with an emotion he hadn't known he connected to the music.

Kurt nodded at him, a silent request of _you first_ and he almost stuttered against the first notes, losing them before he found them. He steadied himself and sung along, eyes glued to Kurt playing the same notes on the piano, his smile growing as he heard Blaine's voice.

_When you're down and troubled, and you need some love and care_

_And nothing, oh nothing is going right_

_Close your eyes and think of me_

_And soon I will be there_

_To brighten up even your darkness night_

There was the smallest of hesitant pauses from Kurt, and Blaine knew he'd be singing the rest of the verse by himself, giving Kurt more time to stabilise himself, as even though he was sat and lost in his piano music, there were a few seconds he needed, and Blaine, gladly, would allow them him.

He sang directly at Kurt, the words seeming far enough away he hardly felt he was singing them. As his verse closed he walked softly over to the piano and leant across it, hoping Kurt would sense him there.

Kurt's shaky inhale was invisible to anyone but him, but his voice follows, soft and almost a part of the music. Beautiful enough it intertwined with the piano, like that was how it was supposed to be, as if the piano couldn't sound as whole without Kurt's voice.

_If the sky high above you_

_Should go dark and full of clouds_

_And that old north wind should begin to blow_

_Keep your head together and call my name out loud_

_Soon I'll be knocking upon your door_

Blaine was glad for the piano providing him support, even if he felt he could melt into it, feeling his eyes grow wider as he concentrated on Kurt- on, as far as he was consciously aware, the only other person in the room.

He had heard Kurt sing before, but something about this was different. Was so achingly different and he couldn't label why.

_You just call out my name_

_And you know wherever I am_

_I'll come running to see you again_

_Winter, spring, summer, or fall_

_All you've got to do is call and I'll be there_

_You've got a friend_

It was Kurt. It was purely, wholly unmasked, and there for the world- or a room full of teenagers and their teacher but what difference did that make- to see. Even as Blaine began to sing again, and their voices mixed- and yet didn't mix- adding to each other in a way where nothing had actually been added, but completed, it was all Kurt. Blaine leaned closer to him as he sang, eyes not having left him since the song had started, and he smiled. Because Kurt was smiling. Smiling in such a way Blaine had not seen before.

And it was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

It was only when the sound of clapping started filtering through, when sharp claps to the back shook him out of whatever bubble of that haze he had been drowning in, he floated back up. That the world came back into focus and it wasn't just him and Kurt and that piano. That other people were watching and hugging Kurt now and congratulating him, and he was sure there were voices speaking at Blaine but they were just words- confusing and blurry.

He turned his head slightly and caught Rachel's eye. Caught her smile.

When he turned back, Santana had Kurt locked in a tight embrace and was mumbling something into his ear, Kurt shaking his head into her shoulder, their chests shaking as they pulled away with a laugh.

As the rest of the group moved away, leaving the choir room as the final bell of the day went and Mr Schue dismissed them all, Kurt straightened himself, and reached a hand over to Blaine. And thankful, and with a slight desperation, Blaine took it, locking them together, blinking rapidly as he thanked the warmth they provided.

"You believe me now right, yeah?" Kurt asked gently. Blaine looked up in confusion. "You could never make me uncomfortable."

Blaine nodded, throat too thick to speak but managed to exhale, "Yes, I know."

If he could ask, he would. But the pressure against his ribs was threatening to break them, knowing if the answer to his questions were the opposite of what he wanted them to be could possibly break him too.

Then again, he wasn't sure if his question would be "Did you know I tried to kiss you?" or "Did you want me to?" because the pressure on his chest told him Kurt's answer to the first would be yes. And he didn't know if that was a good thing or the worst.

"I need to ask you something," Kurt's voice started before his own could, breaking the train of his thought.

Blaine coughed, tightening his fingers briefly around Kurt's. He was suddenly very grateful, for a moment, that there was a piano between themselves and their linked hands.

"About?"

"About something I've been meaning to talk to you for a while," Kurt admitted. "And I want you to answer me honestly about it..."

Blaine's brow furrowed, and he shrugged, lost and slightly curious. "Not telling you what?"

Kurt's head dipped low, face almost hidden as his hair fell across his face and his glasses obstructed the rest from Blaine. After a moment, he looked back up, and sighed softly, and pulled their fingers a little loose.

"Promise you won't get upset if I ask?"

Blaine almost tugged his hand away but steadied it and let himself tighten their hand hold once more. Though he spoke his next word shakily, it was as sincerely as he could mean it, as if the fingers gripping Kurt's could be the only way to communicate it.

"Promise."


	12. Chapter 11

_A/N: Okay, okay! I am incredibly sorry for this huge ass wait between chapters. I had to wait for my exams to be over to start and then found myself in a month long rut where everything I wrote just sounded awful. But I think I managed to write myself out of it. I am sorry, but I couldn't post anything I wrote in that month (I deleted it all too; it was painful). Thank you for all your lovely comments for the last chapter, all the favourites/alerts and for putting up with my terrible updating. I know I say this a lot but it means so much, so thank you and I adore you all. _

_Also, bad time to get writer's block what with that cliffhanger and everything (which I did by accident whoops)_

_Anyway... finally, here you go..._

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><p>Chapter 11<p>

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><p>Kurt's eyes may have been broken, he had to walk slowly around new places and grip tightly onto the objects around for balance, but he never wanted that part of him to break the rest of him. It was strange how many people thought it had. How people would talk softly to him like he was a china doll- speak too loudly, play with him too harshly, he'll crumble under your fingers. It was strange how many people believed his mind would be broken too, like he was a child always in need of their guidance.<p>

His mind was fine. His thoughts and ideas, his beliefs and his emotions- they weren't broken or shaken or warped. He knew what he wanted and felt; he knew what others wanted and felt. People themselves were so ironically blind, that they'd forget that he could hear every word they said, that his lack of vision had no effect on his perceptions of them.

But there were times when what he'd guess about how others felt would feel too much like a dream, like he was making the whole thing up in his head; the picture he was painting was inaccurate and blurred. And if for a second he allowed himself to believe Blaine returned his inappropriate feelings, and it turned out he was making it up, he didn't know how he could pick himself up.

Maybe Blaine's feelings were a mystery, perhaps he'd never fully work them out, but Blaine holding him, and dancing with him, standing in the rain with him, leaning up so his breath was so very close to Kurt's mouth- that had been so _very_ real and solid and _there. _That had happened. Kurt had felt that himself- something was there.

And yet he'd pulled away. Even though every cell in his body was screaming at him for doing so, even though he was aching to close back the gap, he'd tugged himself away and the moment dissolved in a clap of thunder.

He was always told, from such a very young age, and for every night when his mother would tuck him into bed, that the foundation for everything was complete honesty. That lying to his parents, to his friends in school, to his teachers, would render his relationship with them all less meaningful. And perhaps that wasn't strictly true- people lied to the ones they loved more than to those they disliked, whether it be to save them from harsh opinions or awful secrets- Kurt believed keeping everything with Blaine on a level playing field was exactly the way they should work. Cards on the table, every detail shed in the light.

So he pulled away. He wrapped himself up and curled away, running back into his house and waiting for Blaine to leave, so he could dry off only to collapse and turn in on himself on the couch.

Hours after Blaine had left, amongst hours an internal battle of figuring out whether to call him and apologise for the confusing mess they'd both been dropped in, his Dad and Carole returned home, the brief opening of the door allowing the sound of rain to roll through the house. He listened for a while to them stumble through the house, for their laughter and chatter to carry on down the hall into the kitchen, the coffee pot refilled and Carole talking over the sound of it.

It had been his dad who fumbled around with the DVD, the one Kurt had not known was there, and his stomach twisted in knots of guilt as the familiar music played. He stayed curled up on the couch even as his dad patted him sharply on the shoulder, stiff but familiar and oddly needed. His dad left without another word, but Kurt felt the end of the couch dip as Carole settled herself by his feet.

They sat together in silence barring the music from the television for only a few moments, and as easy as they were, Kurt was glad when Carole broke it, his throat awfully dry like sand was scratching at the back of his throat from his hours long silence.

"Did Blaine forget to take this home?"

Kurt shrugged. "Yeah, he must have." The words felt heavy themselves on his tongue, so incredibly false.

"How was your day with him?" she asked, even though through her soft voice and gentle questioning, Kurt figured she had as good as guessed.

"Short," Kurt muttered, fingers curling in on themselves beside his cheek. Carole sighed and rubbed her hand gently on his ankle nearest her.

"Did you argue?"

Kurt shook his head, though it felt too heavy to. Carole didn't press further, and the next few minutes were filled only with the faraway music Kurt couldn't seem to grasp on anymore.

"Carole?" he ventured after a while, propping himself up and dropping his feet to the floor. "Can I ask you something?"

She only hummed quietly in response but it was all the pushing Kurt needed. He sucked in a quick breath and stole himself the smallest of moments.

"It's just... Carole," he started, pulling himself up and shuffling out of his curled up ball. "If you felt for someone, so badly, so deeply, so much it confuses you and-" He paused, the rest of his sentence sticking in his mouth.

"I know the feeling," he heard Carole pipe up softly, a small attempt to nudge him in the right direction. His chin tilted up, turning so he could face the area where she sat.

"What if you had a feeling that, maybe, there was a possibility that person returned those feelings?"

"Oh, Kurt,"Carole began.

"But then what if you don't think he's being completely honest with you?" he murmured, believing for a second Carole hadn't caught what he'd said.

Everything was silent, but for the low buzz from the television. He could hear his own heart beating in his throat as the question hung in the air, and Carole remained quiet.

And then she was right next to him, arms snaking around to grip him tightly, but softly, and the couch dipped again as she moved towards him, cushions shuffling around as she sank down. He propped his chin up against her shoulder, embracing in the warmth he remembered his own mother giving him. That was what he needed, he realised. He was tired of trying to make himself understand, let alone Carole. And she understood. Understood he needed something else than explaining, something in an embrace, something in a mother's arms.

She pulled away stroking the hair from Kurt's forehead.

"What happened with Blaine?" she asked gently, filling Kurt's stomach with an ache and sickening churning he couldn't swallow down. He tugged himself away, arms locked across his chest. He didn't answer, or couldn't bring himself to, but focused on the zoned out music; through the thicket of his thoughts it sounded fuzzy and faraway. Carole didn't prod any further, only moving over to the television and shutting it off. And even though the music had been white noise before, the silence of the room without it was deafening.

"He's not telling me something," Kurt admitted softly.

"And you think he should?" Carole asked.

"I've told him everything about myself."

Carole laughed. "I don't think you have, Kurt. That's a lot to tell someone you've known for a short time."

Kurt's shoulders fell, head weighing heavily down on them.

"It's not that," Kurt tried to explain, propping himself up a little more. "I mean, I think he's avoided telling me something for a while. Something huge- and I don't think I've been completely..." He paused, fingers caught playing idly against the cushion.

He could feel Carole's eyes heavy on him, waiting for his words to trail back into something, but his head dropped and he stayed silent.

"You just have to talk to him, sweetheart," she told him. "These things are better out in the open."

"I don't want him to think his problems don't matter," Kurt cut in, bluntly, the weight of the words relieving him of the pressure against his chest. "People do- because I'm blind, they think their problems are nothing in comparison. I don't want him to think that what troubles him isn't important. I want him to tell me things. Because I don't want him to be in pain any more than he wants me to be."

He tilted his head up as he heard Carole pad over, and her hand was over his shoulder in an instant, gripping it for a second as a sign of understanding. Of comfort.

And though as comforting as she was, Kurt had to get away. Pull himself up and escape to his bedroom. He felt squashed, with no room to breathe.

He wished he could gather up even a lowly amount of courage to call Blaine. Just talking would be nice. He loved the sound of Blaine's voice. He missed the sound of it, and his laughter. But he couldn't even muster enough up to do that, to square his shoulders and face it head on. To tell Blaine how ridiculous and idiotic he felt about today. It wasn't Blaine's fault; it was entirely his.

_Oh poor, brave Kurt Hummel_.

He never understood why people called him brave. They said it because he was blind, but he didn't understand how that made him brave when being blind didn't scare him.

His hopeless, crushing feelings for Blaine that left him breathless and overwhelmed scared him. And he did nothing about it. His fears that Santana would never want to talk to him again, that his dad's heart would give up, that he'd be stuck in Lima forever- they were the ones that troubled him through sleepless nights. Not that he was blind.

And that he was terrified that he would try Glee club and be face with the solid fact that no, this wasn't for him, never could be for him. That his dream of performing should have vanished all those years ago, instead of him clinging on, however so slightly. At least when he watched from the sidelines, when he dreamed about it, he could imagine himself succeeding.

Then what would he do when he was confronted with the fact that he couldn't- that he just wasn't good enough. How does a person watch their dreams fully die, with no much as a handle to hold onto. At least now he could pretend he wouldn't fail. At least it was something.

He hadn't told Blaine. More that he couldn't. Blaine was one of the bravest people Kurt knew, in that he hadn't let anything stop himself from doing what he loved, being who he wanted to be. And wasn't that what bravery was in the end?

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><p>Bravery was what he told himself he would do on the Monday back in school, in the morning, prepared to go in, tell Blaine he wanted to go to Glee (even if his heart dropped through his stomach at the thought). Despite the hiccough of the forgotten doctor's appointment (that his dad had to drag him to as he complained about it being a pointless yearly activity, a waste of money and time) he was determined and set on his tasks.<p>

He was tired. Having barely slept all weekend, he was drowsy and warm, everything took extra effort. Every step walking through the house (and later on in school), every minute spent concentrating on his dad, and then the doctor, and then his teachers, every moment keeping himself from his head slipping on the hand it was propped against.

"And how are you feeling?" the doctor had asked, towards the end of his appointment.

"Fine and dandy," Kurt replied, a little shortly, fully itching to get to school and talk to Blaine. "Really coming to terms I'll never see anything again. Really cheers me up when I remind myself of the fact by coming here every year."

He hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly. But at least the man hurried through their appointment and skipped over useless questions those appointments were usually filled with.

He didn't understand where bravery came from, or how Blaine did it. But in short moments Kurt felt like he could muster some up. He mightn't save lives or have risked his own, but in the moments he decided to go to Glee club and confront Blaine, they were enough for him to use as stepping stones for now.

Bravery was singing that damn song, and having Blaine sing it with him. Easier to have a little courage when someone's there to (figuratively) hold your hand.

Kurt reminded himself, as he sat down in the choir room after everyone had left, that the best way to get Blaine to talk to him was not to push. Blaine had never really pushed him, after all. It wasn't what he and Blaine were built on. Not to push, but there to hold the other's hand.

He folded his hands in his lap, Blaine brushing past him on his way to another chair, squeaking against the floor as he pulled it out.

"Blaine," he started, taking a short breath and exhaling the rest of the sentence. "I know something's up."

There was nothing but Blaine's silence which replied to him and he fidgeted on his stool, listening for something from Blaine, but barely even catching the squeaking of the chair against the floor.

"Something up?" Blaine's voice finally piped up, confused and off.

"With you, yes," Kurt prodded him. "Something you aren't telling me."

Blaine was still; he could hear that much. Even his breathing slowed as he steadied himself.

"What... what do you mean?" Blaine said on exhale.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" Kurt asked carefully. "I understand why you wouldn't want to tell me-"

"It's just hard, Kurt, I'm-" Blaine tried to explain, pushing his chair back and his steps padded only slightly away from it.

"I know, Blaine," Kurt interjected, softly. "I know. Things like that aren't easy to talk about. I would know."

Blaine's tapping foot against the floor stopped, only a squeak audible through the room as he turned on the spot.

"You would?" Kurt's eyebrows rose, the tone of Blaine's voice oddly surprised.

"Of course," Kurt said slowly, "I've had my fair share of torment from those jocks and others at this school."

"What?"

"What?" Kurt returned at the odd twist in Blaine's voice, forehead creasing. "I've noticed how you've been around them," he explained. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Oh," Blaine breathed, pieces sounding as though they'd finally clunked into place. "No, of course not," he added quickly, moving softly towards Kurt.

"Did you think I was talking about something else?" Kurt questioned, brow still furrowed, still shaken by the tone of Blaine's voice.

Blaine pulled his chair up again, but Kurt could feel him still standing above him. Standing very still.

"No, "he answered."I just didn't catch on what you meant."

Kurt tilted his head down, brow lifting, face relaxing even as his fingers tensed.

"So you know what I mean about how I've noticed you around them," he clarified, Blaine's breathing heavy between them.

"Kurt, you know I was bullied at my old public school," Blaine said. "Old perceptions of people die hard, I guess."

"You were terrified the other week when Karofsky and Azimio cornered us," Kurt pointed out, impatience rising in his voice. Blaine wasn't being dishonest but he was holding back on him- he could feel the drag between his carefully chosen words. "You've never talked to me about what happened at that school."

Blaine's silence dragged, each second stretched between his statement and Blaine's answer.

"You never asked," Blaine muttered, piano creaking as he leant against it.

"I didn't know how to," Kurt explained. "But I am now." He tilted his chin up, hearing the piano creaking under Blaine's slight weight. "Blaine-"

"Kurt-" His voice dropped, leaving his name hanging in the air.

"You promised, Blaine," Kurt cut through, wincing at how his voice turned so whiney. "You promised you wouldn't get upset if I asked!"

"I'm not upset," he replied, voice sounded a little off, so Kurt couldn't place the tone.

"Sounds it," Kurt mumbled, folding his arms tightly across his chest. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, guilt pressing down on his stomach. Weighing on how he'd ruined a perfectly good day _again, _this time because of his own impatience.

And then Blaine was laughing. Peeling away from him in loud, staccato bursts, bubbling and taking over him.

"What?" Kurt's lips quirked, Blaine's laughter catching his small smile so he couldn't press it down, his laughter running through him so worry almost lifted from him. "What's so funny?"

"I just..." he laughed out, "When did we go from a serious moment to bickering like a married couple?" Kurt blanched, lips parting as a way to form an answer to Blaine's words.

"This would be serious, Blaine," Kurt pointed out, "If you weren't laughing it off." His lips betrayed the tone of his voice, still drawn into a small smile.

Blaine laughed, moving off the piano, making his way towards Kurt until his hands were squeezing his shoulders. Kurt tilted his chin up and Blaine tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"Of course I'll tell you, Kurt," he chuckled. "I'm surprised that was the question, is all."

"You will?" Kurt's hand flexed in his lap, hopeful tone creeping into his words.

"You're my best friend," he sighed, smile at the edge of his words. "Of course I want to talk to you about... things." He paused for a second, hands pulling away from Kurt, the loss of the weight on his shoulders horribly empty. "But... you know how it took you a while to talk about your mom?"

Kurt nodded.

"Can you give me that, Kurt?" he asked, laughter gone now from his voice. "A little time?"

Kurt nodded again, a sad smile following. Exactly how much time Blaine needed churned his stomach a little. But he could wait. He could.

"Yes, sure. I'm sorry; I came on too strong."

Blaine laughed. "I wouldn't expect any different from you."

Kurt scoffed, eyes rolling, though hidden from Blaine. "I'm glad you find it hilarity in all this." His lips twitched before he broke and he was grinning up at Blaine widely.

"I find it hilarious you bicker like a grandma, yes," Blaine admitted. "I also find it funny you'd think I wouldn't want to talk about things in my past," he added a little softer. "But..."

"Time," Kurt cut through, smiling. "I know." He reached forward, until his fingers brushing over Blaine's hand, and gave it a soft squeeze.

No push. Just holding his hand.

Blaine squeezed his hand back, warm and small in his, the heat so welcoming and needed.

It meant all that much more that Blaine understood what those handholds meant to Kurt. He had missed him, as short as the weekend they hadn't been talking was. He had really missed him.

Glee practice became a chance to spend more time with him, to spend more time with the others. To realise exactly how much time he'd been missing out on. Puck whacked him on the back the following Monday and congratulated him on a promotion from honorary member status. Sam performing his impressions that apparently Kurt "just had to see... I mean, hear, dude, sorry!"

"I don't understand," Kurt said slowly. "Who was that meant to be?"

"Obi-Wan," Sam stated, he imagined with a quick eye roll and a very silent _duh_.

"That sounded nothing like him!" Kurt argued.

"Ewan McGregor Obi-Wan. From the prequels," Sam shot back. "Obviously."

"I never bothered with the prequels," Kurt admitted which, without having realised he would, began a huge discussion in the middle of practice beginning with the questioning of the quality of the Star Wars films to somehow loud arguments over whether Avatar was worth all the hype.

He really had missed so much. Their inside jokes, their daily arguments and banter, missing Santana in her prime environment of happily bestowing her opinion on anything and everything, missing how Blaine was with them all, how he was so well integrated into the group and as much a part as all those who'd been there from the start.

Easy as it must have been for Blaine, it was for him too. It was scarily easy becoming a part of the club. Perhaps because he'd always been a part just not... officially.

He didn't even mind when everyone got up to dance. If someone didn't grab his hand and pull him in, he would mill over by the side and listen, edging around, tapping his feet in time. Glued to the spot.

"Kurt," Blaine laughed, taking his hand. He was slightly breathless but giddy, tugging at Kurt's arm. "It's okay, Kurt, you can dance."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"I can dance?"

"Yes, you can dance," Blaine replied, slightly confused.

Kurt grinned. "I can dance if I want to? I can leave my friends behind? 'Cause if my friends don't dance then they're no friends of mine?"

"Kurt."

"What?" he laughed back at the giggles in Blaine's own voice, until Blaine was pulling him by the hand into the mix of the group

"Take this seriously," he told him, laughter becoming the music and the music completely surrounding them, hand in Kurt's and Kurt so sure he wore a grin to match the one on Kurt's face. It was music and noise and everything Kurt had allowed himself miss out on, yet he no longer was. So the music became his laughter and his laughter became Blaine's. And even if that moment would be broken up minutes later by another argument between Rachel and Mercedes, it was still enough to keep the smile on Kurt's face.

In fact, he would even say he'd missed Rachel bickering with everyone.

* * *

><p>His questions fell to the wayside, drowning his lingering thoughts by immersing himself in Glee projects. The soonest of which, as Mr. Schue called it, "A Night of Neglect" he threw himself right into.<p>

"You want to perform, Kurt?" Blaine asked brightly, such a hopeful smile in his question, Kurt felt his heart break to answer.

"No," he replied slowly, apologetically as he could, Blaine's resulting silence remaining a mystery to how he'd responded. "I was thinking more about promoting, advertising," he carried on. "I could give out leaflets in my dad's shop, promote it there.

There was a mumbling of approval sounding through the room, Mr. Schue's hurried scribbling on the board following.

"I could get some guys from my dance class to come," Brittany piped up.

"And I'm sure my friends from Dalton would love to come too," Blaine added, Kurt grinning in his direction.

Although he wouldn't mention it until Blaine was ready to talk, and he was preoccupying himself with Glee, it didn't stop him from wanting desperately to talk to him. Didn't stop him from taking every moment spent with Blaine and cherishing them. There'd be times Kurt was sure Blaine was doing the same thing, felt the same way about Kurt. After all, he was sure Blaine had tried to kiss him.

Or he was fairly certain.

Or maybe he hadn't.

Maybe he had made the whole thing up in his head.

"Hey," Blaine's voice peaked through his clouded thoughts. "Are you okay?" Kurt's head snapped up, the fingers fidgeting in his shirt stilling, coming to a short stop down the corridor. He listened for a moment to the clambering of people in the halls farther down towards the auditorium. Although he was glad their fundraiser was so far going well, the clatter around them as they'd piled in became too tight and restricting, and Kurt had needed to walk away, breathe air that was a little less densely packed with parents and friends.

"Kind of-" he admitted. "It's just that-"

"You two," Santana's sharp voice snapped across their conversation, breaking Kurt's train of words. "Time to get yourselves in the auditorium, we're about to-" Her voice trailed as her heels clipped loudly against the floor. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt's mouth fell open, but she moved smoothly past him, the echoing of her heels stopping slightly ahead of them. Blaine shifted against his shoulder as he turned, and Kurt turned with him. Blaine's shoulder knocked against his with a sharp inhale of breath.

"We aren't allowed to watch you people?" the familiar voice of Azimio answered. Kurt's heart leapt to his throat.

"Since when have you been bothered with what Glee club do?" Blaine retorted, ice in his words.

"We've been invited here by Coach Sylvester," another voice answered. With his stomach crunching, Kurt pulled his cane tight against himself. "And we've paid so you can't kick you out, you little f-"

"Yeah, well I can mess you up enough, Karofsky. So if you even think about screwing around tonight," Santana bit across, only causing the two to laugh at her words, scoffing at the threat.

"You do that, Lopez," Karofskty spat, feet stumbling slightly forwards. A hand suddenly pulled against Kurt's shoulder, but despite the tight grip it was pulling him back, with a short, soft squeeze as it did. Kurt breathed in relief as Blaine linked his other hand around Kurt's arm, pressing him against his side. "Though you might want to spend your time keeping your eyes on certain others tonight."

"Keep your hands off him." Blaine's voice was low, fingers digging into Kurt a little tighter. Kurt gripped his cane, words lost before he could even come up with any. He shrugged himself out of Blaine's grip as Karofsky's feet scuffled back, yelling out as Santana had dragged him back.

Before she had a chance to yell more than, _"You even dare_-" they were scuttling past Kurt, laughter hanging in the air as they knocked him into Blaine. With a soft tug against his wrist, Blaine pressed Kurt to his side, only gently releasing him once the footsteps and voices died around the corner.

"What's Sue thinking letting them come?" Kurt moaned. "Can't we just kick them out?"

"They've paid. We can't," Santana pointed out, although her voice seemed distant, focused on something else. "Blaine?"

"Huh?" Blaine's arm shifted, brushing away from Kurt's side.

"Are you okay?" The tone in Santana's voice was oddly soft, a hint of curiousness lying in it, but still gentle. Blaine stiffened beneath Kurt's fingers as he reached out.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Is everyone else okay?" There was nothing else in his voice to hear other than a fragile crack and Kurt reached closer to Blaine immediately. Fingers through Blaine's, just needing him to be there.

Santana hurried past them, with a firm, almost lingering, squeeze on his shoulder- something of a sign of understanding, that she disappear now and let them talk.

Blaine moved to pull out of Kurt's grasp and follow Santana, but Kurt tightened their fingers together.

"Blaine," he started, pulling at Blaine's hand, like a child lost and confused but still desperate- so desperate- to help.

"Kurt," Blaine cut through, turning so Kurt's hand was tugged closer. "I-" Kurt sucked in a breath, now maybe not as good a time as any for Blaine to talk to him, but a time nevertheless. But he was hesitating and then he was pulling away, the breath Kurt had taken leaving him. "We need to get to the auditorium or we'll be late," he laughed stiffly, Kurt following his footsteps dumbly. Lost, confused child. Desperate to help. So desperate.

Blaine didn't want to talk to him.

Or he did.

He did but he was holding back, he was... scared. Or nervous.

Blaine was leading him through muddling thoughts and dropping him into a mess of confusing words and notions. Kurt needed him to be honest with him, because him not doing so was tearing away at him.

Even if they were muddled and messy, most of his thoughts ended up being taken over by Blaine. With small attempts he organised them and cleared them up. So they weren't just readable and coherent, but physical and real.

When he climbed into bed that night, they were thoughts of how Blaine froze next to him during the benefit, even if moments before he'd seemed to melt into relaxation as he'd met back up with his Dalton friends. Heckling from farther in front of them began and Blaine was shrinking in on himself.

Kurt wanted so desperately to break any patience he had so far managed to maintain. Wanted to take Blaine away from nasty slurs yelled up at their friends on stage and ask, or beg, or demand him to tell him. Tell him what was going on. Or at least why he needed so much time.

It was frustration clawing away in his mind, but it would have to stay there, clawing away, while he bit down on his tongue and waited.

* * *

><p>Useless doodles across the page, circled and circled, over and under- simple patterns and scribbled. All equalling the same thing.<p>

A mess.

A distraction. A distraction from the stiffly quiet Blaine sat a little away from him. Or a distraction from the conversation he was on the brink of forcing themselves to have.

Blaine was scribbling away on something, occasionally taking a sip from his coffee he'd made in Kurt's kitchen earlier. His pen scratched hurriedly against paper as he carried out the studying they had both planned to fill the afternoon with. Kurt sighed as he carried on his own useless doodling, rolling his shoulders and shifting his position propped up against the edge of the bed. When he felt his hand tracing familiar letters on the page he scribbled almost violently against the page and threw the scrap of paper away. The scratching of Blaine's pen stopped, paper rustled, and Kurt was very firmly under the impression Blaine was watching him with knitted eyebrows.

"Are you going to get your laptop out and do some actual work or scribble in a notebook for the rest of the afternoon?" Blaine asked with a smug little quirk in his tone.

Kurt barely smiled in return, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"You want to go to prom?" he mumbled a little too quickly, words running into each other. Blaine was silent, shuffling to indicate he was moving up.

"What?"

"Prom," Kurt repeated, with a little more clarity. "Do you want to go to prom?"

His stomach swooped at Blaine's resulting silent answer. It wasn't even worth asking. Prom wasn't for a few weeks off anyway, and Blaine hadn't tried to kiss him and he didn't return any feelings and he didn't want to go to prom. Not with him.

"Kurt... I-"

"As friends," he amended quickly. Blaine's voice was so sad and apologetic, Kurt couldn't allow it to drown him like the disappointment his pulse carried through his veins was doing. He meant as friends anyway, but he felt a need to reinforce it, not just to Blaine but for himself. For the slow trickle of letdown consuming him to stop.

"Kurt, I-" he said slowly, almost as if there was an explanation coming. Kurt ducked his head and breathed in slowly.

"No, no," he interjected. "It's okay. If there's someone else you want to go with... that's fine. I just-"

"No, Kurt, it's not that it's just," he began. The pen in his hand drummed against his book as he looked for a word, silence light between them and Kurt waiting with fingers locked over his knees. Blaine sighed. "Prom," he settled on.

"What about prom?" Kurt asked softly, shifting his legs and unlocking his fingers.

Blaine didn't answer immediately, a soft realisation hitting Kurt squarely in the stomach. Blaine was so very quiet, so very reserved. He was so far and so detached from Kurt. It only took a few seconds for him to not answer for Kurt to sense the same hesitation he had talking about public school. It only took those seconds to put together that the two were one in the same.

"Kurt, I need-"

"Time. I know." Kurt smiled tightly, but the corners of his lips fell when Blaine sighed.

"No, Kurt," he carried on. "I need to tell you." His clothes rubbed against the carpet, soft pads as he crawled across the bedroom floor so he sat a little closer to Kurt, though he could feel there was still a good amount of distance between them. "I need to swallow my pride and just tell you."

Kurt nodded. Stiffly and almost broken, throat tight, but he nodded. He curled back in on himself and waited, leaning in slightly to catch the rest of Blaine's sentence.

"A couple of years ago, when I was still in public school, I went to a dance at school," he started, words slow and careful. "And I went to it with my friend- the only other gay guy I knew and-" He sucked in a breath, Kurt feeling himself lean in towards Blaine without a second thought, hand itching to take his. "Well, we got caught up in a group of...um... overenthusiastic and possibly drunk jocks. And... you know. I was in hospital for a couple of weeks."

Kurt made a small noise at the back of his throat.

"Blaine," he breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not even a big deal," Blaine told him. "I'm okay now. I'm just... I'm more ashamed of the way I dealt with it. By running away."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Kurt insisted, but Blaine only laughed brokenly.

"Running and hiding behind a fancy school my parents threw a lot of money at. Not what I'd call courage," Blaine scoffed. Kurt leant in, closer to Blaine so that when he moved his hand curled up in his lap, it was brushing against Blaine's jeans.

"It takes a lot of courage to admit there's something going on. And a lot more bravery to get up and leave," Kurt said stiffly, turning his palm up and smiling as Blaine wrapped their hands together, and gave his hand a soft squeeze.

The seconds seemed to trickle by, hands still linked, both sat against the bed in silence, only the sound of the clock ticking breaking it. But holding Blaine's hand wasn't enough, as warm as it was, as safe as he felt, and he shifted away only to lean back in, wrap his arms around Blaine's shoulders and tighten his grip as Blaine rested his head on his chest.

"Thank you for telling me," Kurt mumbled near his ear. Blaine stiffened for barely a second before relaxing back into Kurt's hug.

"I guess you don't understand why it took me so long to," Blaine said, pulling away slightly. Kurt's arms still rested against his shoulders, Blaine's hands still barely on his hips.

"I-" Kurt stopped. He couldn't understand completely, no. He wanted to. He knew things took time but why so much time he couldn't figure out.

Blaine laughed. "Guess I don't like seeming less than perfect to you."

Kurt smiled. "You think I think you're perfect?" he laughed. "Where did you get this from?" Blaine shook gently with laughter, pushing Kurt away so he landed against the floor with a small shove.

"Cheeky."

Kurt grinned up, with what he hoped was the face of perfect innocence. Tilting his head, he followed Blaine's movement as he lay out on the floor next to him, brushing against his side. Kurt stretched out his own legs, facing up, listening to Blaine's breathing in time with his own.

"So you want to go to prom?" Blaine asked on a breath. Kurt shifted himself up, leaning on his elbow and tilting his head to where Blaine lay next to him.

"We could go in a group with the girls," he suggested. "We'll be safe. Or you can just not go if you don't want. I won't go either-"

"Kurt-"

"Hear me out," Kurt said, stopping him from arguing. He sat himself up fully, drawing his knees back into his chest and listening to his own heartbeat. "I'm scared too. Going to prom. But a really annoying kid keeps going on at me and telling me to not let anything hold me back. And I want to be that person for you."

"Well, you've got the annoying down to a tee," Blaine interrupted. Kurt kicked his leg out, catching Blaine's calf, and he yelped back with a laugh.

"You know what I mean." Kurt smiled, with a little force, and Blaine's laughter subsided, his thoughts loud between the two of them. Kurt could hear the cogs clanking in his head, the wheels spinning.

He bit his lip before he continued.

"Besides," he continued, smiling, "if anyone tries to touch us, Santana will beat them up with her little finger."

Blaine's laughter started off small- tiny giggles escaping as he tried to keep them in. But then he was really laughing, huge bursts one after the other. Kurt leant his chin atop his knees and fought down the huge grin playing at his lips.

"Fine," Blaine said between his laughs. "Let's go to prom."

The noise that escaped Kurt was embarrassingly high pitched, but he found himself not caring, flinging his arms around Blaine and pushing them both back to the floor in a squeal of excitement mixed in with Blaine's laugh.


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N: Hi! Thank you for all the lovely comments, the favourites and alerts after the last chapter. You're all so patient and I love you for it. Because I don't think I can put links in the chapter, the last two songs are youtube . com(/)watch?v=osVaF4t-zFc (the one Santana sings) and youtube . com(/)watch?v=NzlGZDzdsPg (the one Sam sings)_

_Yay prom!_

* * *

><p>Chapter 12<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine sifted through page after page, flicking through idly as the words blurred together. The magazine seemed repetitive and boring, the same images flying past, the same colours making up the majority of its glossy pages. He forced himself to concentrate on the words of a Rhianna interview he couldn't even pretend to be interested in. He threw it aside just as he fell back against his mattress and pillows, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until his vision exploded in stars.<p>

Ready to roll off his bed and drown his thoughts in a shower— an hour long shower on the highest heat. Preferably a screaming-along-with-Broadway-soundtrack-of-choice shower— his phone buzzed in his pocket, the tune only pulling him slightly out of his catatonic state.

"Hello," he said.

"Hey you." Blaine's lips twitched at the breathy tone in Kurt's voice.

"You sound happy," he commented, opening his eyes as Kurt's laugh travelled down the phone.

"I am," he agreed. "I'm excited to get out the house, actually. Mercedes and Rachel are coming to get me in a minute." Something clicked in Blaine's head, with which he fully rolled himself off his bed to land with a thump on his carpet.

"Oh right. You're going shopping with them today." He pressed the phone to his ear as he scrambled up off the floor, padding out and across the landing to his parents' room. He peered inside and found no sign of them but a pile of neatly folded ironing, and so made his way to the closet.

"Yeah," Kurt answered as Blaine sifted through the towels to find his. "Rachel and Mercedes were nice enough to invite me."

"You're going shopping with Rachel?" Blaine laughed. "I thought you had strict rules about that."

"Mercedes will be there too," Kurt reminded him. "And Santana says I can trust her more than Rachel when it comes to clothes. So I'm sticking to her like glue when it comes to potential prom outfits." Blaine stiffened slightly, mouth dry, blankly staring into the closet.

"And Santana's going with Britt to shop for dresses, and I wanted to give them space, you know?" Kurt continued at Blaine's silence.

"Are they going together?" Blaine asked, pressing the phone between shoulder and cheek as he tugged his towel out from the bottom of the pile.

"I'm hoping so." Kurt sighed. "But I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. Santana's not exactly... out."

"They could go under the guise of friends," Blaine mumbled into his phone, shutting the closet door just as a flitting question ran through him. Exactly under what pretence was he going to prom? That he was just friends with Kurt and they were going as friends? Which they were.

But how many other people would see it as that?

"Or maybe not," he finished, stumbling out his parents' room and shutting the door quietly behind him. "Maybe it's not the best idea."

Kurt hummed down the phone softly, a little too quietly, and Blaine stilled on the landing at the response. The little quirk in his tone off-putting.

"What?" Blaine asked.

"You don't think they should go together?" Kurt said, voice soft but a sharpness underlying his words.

"No," Blaine began to explain, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "I'm saying if they go as a couple, they should _go as a couple._ Not have to pretend they're just friends."

Kurt stayed silent down the other end of the phone, barely breathing out a small sigh of understanding and Blaine's fingers tensed around his phone, throwing his towel over the hook on the back of the door and perching on the edge of the bath.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed softly. "They shouldn't have to lie about their feelings, right?" There was an edge in Kurt's voice, as though t twisting it into a question for Blaine.

It was a ridiculous notion, a fleeting worry made up in his mind, because the next moment Kurt's voice trilled lightly down the phone, breathily musical to Blaine's ear, questioning tone dissolved as though it never existed. And it mustn't have. Kurt was no mind reader. He wouldn't be able to magically sense how Blaine's eyes lingered a little longer over Kurt's face when they hid themselves up in the library, or in their alcove in the coffee shop, or in their bedrooms. And he may have felt the touches from Blaine on his hands and shoulders and arms lasting a little longer, but he couldn't know it was because Blaine wanted to be closer, always felt the need to inch that little bit further. And Kurt definitely couldn't know how Blaine's eyes flicked down the line of his nose, his gaze hovering over his lips, before checking himself and snapping them back up.

"You should come with us," Kurt carried on, a light change of subject. "I could use someone else who can control the being that is Rachel Berry on this adventure." Blaine chuckled, shaking his head as his stomach twisted.

"I have my prom outfit," he reminded Kurt.

"Yes, but you could still come and we could find a nice..." He trailed off a second before his words came back. "A nice bow tie you'd like to spruce your suit up a little. You're always wearing those things right?"

"My suit is fine," Blaine scoffed. "It's a lovely suit thanks. Nice and-"

"Boring?"

"Discreet." The words said at the same time, the stiff silence following as Blaine sat a little rigidly on the edge of the bath, wondering if Kurt's fingers were tensing just like his were.

"That's just another word for boring," Kurt drawled, laughing with some restraint. As though with a small check. Blaine's lips turned up with little force, fingers relaxing and breathing once again as simple as it should be. Without the pressure constricting his airways. He needed this. Plain and simple banter with Kurt. With his best friend. Without worrying about feelings being trodden on and offenses being made, and for even the things that worried them both for a simple moment to be made into something to laugh at.

"Okay, okay," Blaine laughed. "My suit looks boring." He paused, biting down on his bottom lip."But I was kind of focusing on other aspects of it, you know, because the only person's opinion I care about won't know what it looks like anyway."

"Hmm?" Kurt's voice was practically beaming down the phone at him. "I bet you think that's totally sweet and not at all cheesy."

"I'm adorable," Blaine insisted, cheeky quirk causing Kurt to burst into short giggles once more.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"I am. One day you'll admit it," Blaine said, just as Kurt shuffled down the line.

"Maybe I will," Kurt's voice sounded a little distant ,until finally looping back to Blaine. "And on that day I'll buy you a ton of ice cream as proof of your victory. But for now..." his voice trailed again. "For now the loudmouth brigade have come to take me away for fun times at the Mall. Sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm just about to get in the bath," Blaine lied.

"It's two in the afternoon!"

"I had a lazy day!"

"Sure," Kurt scoffed. "I'll talk to you later."

"You too," Blaine said softly, arm falling down by his side as he heard the tone to indicate Kurt had cut him off.

* * *

><p>Later in the week Blaine had found himself walking down the winding school halls, quiet from the absent students who had left earlier in the day. The silence itself was eerie, the school unusually still. He edged through along the lines of lockers, leaving the majority of the glee club back in the choir room, their voices and laughter still following him as he turned outside the entrance of the school.<p>

Kurt was sitting on top of a low wall, school bag propped to his side, cane folded on top of that. His feet would have reached the ground if he hadn't pulled himself back, so his legs swung loosely, soles of his shoes scuffling against the asphalt. He popped a grape into his mouth from the bag in his lap.

His jaw was still working as he chewed when Blaine made his way over, Kurt lifting his head up at the sound of his footsteps.

"Hey," Blaine greeted, and Kurt's lips twitched into a small smile. "Rather long bathroom break, isn't it?"

Kurt shrugged. "I needed some fresh air. Grape?" He held the bag out, taking another one as he did.

"I'm good, thanks," he said, folding his arms so they wrapped around his chest loosely, eyes over Kurt, watching him with the safe distance between them. "Enough fresh air for another to enjoy?"

Kurt swallowed before his face broke into a grin. "Afraid not," he answered, solemnly. "Only enough fresh air for one pensive teenager today." He threw Blaine another small smile, patting the space of wall next to him, pulling his hand away as he felt Blaine brush past to take up the spot. He sat against the edge and took a long breath in through his nose, eyes fluttering closed and head leaning back as he inhaled.

"Ah," he breathed out, "Exhaust fumes."

Kurt scoffed through his laughter, nudging him in the side softly.

"If you don't appreciate my fresh air, why did you come following me?" he asked, another grape popped into his mouth as he said it, again holding the bag out to Blaine. This time he took one.

"I didn't come out following you," Blaine argued, smiling as Kurt raised his eyebrows. His small frown formed around the fruit in his mouth making his face look younger, something so adorable in the way he was reacting to Blaine.

"Uh huh. What do you call this then?" he asked, indicating between the two of them with his finger.

"I call it 'wondering where my friend who went to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago has disappeared to,'" Blaine said, taking another grape, shuffling up to sit up, his own feet now dangling slightly above the ground.

"I call it stalking," Kurt retorted.

"Fine, you got me," Blaine sighed. "I didn't want you hogging all this fresh air to yourself. So I came out here to infiltrate your grand plan to steal the air from the world." He tilted his head back to take another breath, a quick look up to the sky before turning back to look at Kurt.

He beamed at Blaine, before seeming to catch himself, biting down the grin and turning his face away, but a laugh broke out, there with a shake of his head, but he was laughing. Blaine's breath left him a little shakily, eyes locked on Kurt, his own mouth curling upwards as Kurt carried on in his laughter. His shoulder brushed Kurt's and he felt him lean into the touch.

"You're so odd," Kurt chuckled, turning to smile and nudge Blaine off balance.

"I'm not the one seeking fresh air outside a school by a main road, yet I'm the odd one?"

He smiled as Kurt laughed, both their legs scuffling across the floor in tandem. Something so calm had settled between them, so that Blaine only needed to take a small breath to steady himself to ask Kurt the question on his mind.

"Unless you didn't come out here for fresh air?" He prodded lightly, watching as Kurt's mouth twisted for just a second, before his face was blank, just as expressionless as before. He rolled another grape between his fingers. "Kurt?"

"I just had to get some space," he sighed, hand falling to his lap. "It's just this week's lesson. Don't get me wrong, it's a good one. I guess. It's just difficult."

"Having trouble deciding what word to put on your shirt?" Blaine asked, only half-joking. Kurt tilted his head to the side to face him again and smiled after a beat.

"Having trouble working out what I'm meant to learn from it," Kurt answered, turning his head away again, the last grape still in between his fingers. "It's a good lesson," he carried on at Blaine's resulting silence. "I know. But we're supposed to embrace what is different about us and accept it, love it. The one thing others want us to change but we wouldn't."

Blaine nodded, pointlessly so, but he did so. Kurt swung his foot back to kick against the wall with his heel, expression remaining blank.

"But there's a difference between what we wouldn't change and what we can't change," he said, finally eating the grape and scrunching the bag up in his hand to stuff in his jacket pocket. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Blaine hesitated. "I think so," he answered, drawing the sentence out and Kurt heard the uncertainty. He clicked his tongue, a look about him as though he'd lost himself in thought and almost forgotten Blaine was there.

"There are things I wouldn't change, out of principle, out of pride. Even if fundamentally they are things I can't change, the main point would be I wouldn't change them anyway," he explained. "But there are things I can't change. And they aren't things I like about myself, or want to be. But they're part of me as much as the things I wouldn't change, maybe sometimes even more. What Mr. Schue said, about the things we dislike the most about ourselves being the thing that makes us special, it's just not a perspective I can jump on board with."

Blaine eyes flickered down the profile of Kurt's face, and he leaned across, an overwhelming urge to, without thinking or even realising, and kissed Kurt's temple, hair brushing his cheek and nose. He felt Kurt tense under the touch, and pulled away quickly. Heat burning in his cheeks, Kurt turned his head, his mouth slightly open in question but no sound left either of them.

Heat spread down his neck, having no idea why he'd just done that, confused at himself and squirming a little in his spot. Hopefully, Kurt would say something to break whatever awkward _thing_ Blaine had just dropped them into. It had been instinct, like it was as easy as reaching across to hug him or hold his hand. A kiss to the forehead hadn't seemed like a big deal.

"That was..." Kurt started.

"Different," Blaine continued, heart thudding. Kurt laughed, giddily, smiling as though the surprise was nothing but a pleasant one. Blaine's eyes darted away and then back to Kurt's face, hoping the rise in colour in it wasn't completely his imagination.

Kurt coughed, sitting up a little and tugging slightly away.

"We should..." Kurt began, fiddling with his jacket.

"Get back?" Blaine finished, hiding any tone of disappointment with a smile in his voice.

"Or we could just leave early?" Kurt suggested. "Say I wasn't feeling well and go get a coffee instead?"

"And leave the lesson? But important life lessons, Kurt! How could we leave?" Blaine gasped in mock horror.

"Screw life lessons," he announced, jumping up onto his feet, feeling around to grab his bag and unfolding his cane. "I'm already an embodiment of perfection."

Blaine laughed, jumping up himself and threading his fingers in Kurt's and pressing his side into him, soft bump to his shoulders. "And I'm not bad, myself?"

"You're amazing," Kurt said, knocking him back.

Kurt didn't have to say any more. Blaine reached across to lean their shoulders together again. When Kurt turned to smile at him again, Blaine swallowed heavily and smiled back, wishing Kurt could see it, even for a second. Maybe this was what having a friend like Kurt was. To the point where they _could_ but didn't have to talk about things, because they already knew. Kurt's smile didn't falter, but this time he kept his face turned towards Blaine as he spoke.

"What would you have on your shirt?" His voice was low, and Blaine frowned. "If we ignored the assignment. If it wasn't about what others don't like about us."

"You mean something I don't like about myself?"

"I mean something you can't change," Kurt explained. Blaine paused again, eyes drifting over the school entrance, pinning to a point above the door as he thought.

"Lonely," he settled on, Kurt's hand tightening for a split second in his. "I don't think that counts though."

"It counts," Kurt disagreed.

"I can't help it," Blaine tried to explain. "Sometimes I just get really lonely and for no reason to be honest."

He thought briefly of his distant parents, and other members of what family he had living away and barely keeping in contact. An empty house for sometimes nearly as long as three weeks while they worked. And then of his friends from his old school, where there were plenty and welcoming enough. And his friends from this school, where there weren't so many, but meant all the same. How it would all come back to the same thing when he'd go home to an vacant house and wonder where his parents were that night, or when they'd phone.

There'd been a point when the loneliness barely felt like loneliness any more; it was just what his life was. It didn't become easier to manage being alone, but it became easier to accept. Easier to get home and plug music in and forget he felt so out of depth, and so exhausted.

Blaine dragged his eyes away from the spot they'd been trained on, turning back up to Kurt's face, catching his tiny frown, forehead creased in worry.

"Not as much any more though," he finished, not taking his eyes away from Kurt.

"Are you sure?" Kurt checked. Blaine smiled fondly.

"Definitely not," he told him, swinging their hands between them. "Now, coffee?" Kurt's lips turned upwards, lines in his forehead disappearing, features soft.

"Coffee," Kurt agreed, and they began their way, Kurt with his cane held out in front, their arms locked and conversation light and easy. Blaine didn't ask Kurt what he would put on his shirt, and he didn't need to. He just wished there was a way he could have told Kurt he understood other than a soft squeeze to his arm as they walked to Blaine's car.

Later on in the night, stretched out on the floor as he scribbled something down for English, the bag in the corner of the room caught his eye. The bag full of information and booklets he'd found, the leaflets on programmes for Kurt he'd looked into. The ones he'd briefly brought up months ago, before Kurt had said it was too soon. That night, mind still on his earlier conversation with Kurt, he took the bag full of the leaflets downstairs and, with barely a trace of a second thought, tipped it into the trash.

* * *

><p>The closer and closer the days closed into Prom, the more and more Blaine wished the earth around him would suffocate him and swallow him whole. His shoulders felt weak holding himself up and he found himself drifting off into thoughts so often he kept bumping into others down the halls, including a few unimpressed jocks.<p>

And the more guilt churned through him at how excited Kurt seemed. He wouldn't have been lying if he said he was surprised. He didn't know what he had been banking on- Kurt being just as nervous as he was, or Kurt not wanting to go at all. He hadn't expected him to join in with the majority of the club as practice became less and less about upcoming Nationals and more about dresses and suits and ties and corsages and prom, prom, prom.

Yet the more he focused away from the upcoming dance, the more the small things managed to squeeze past his filter. Noticing little changes in the way Kurt held himself, or fit himself into the group. He could forget his own worries when he caught Kurt in the corner of his eye, smiling and laughing, chattering away like the world outside his excited bubble didn't exist. Where he didn't think there was anything strange or different about him.

Perhaps that was why Blaine pushed all his own anxiety down, until it was nothing but a tight, sickening knot at the pit of his stomach. Seeing Kurt like that, something settled in him. Not everything. There was still a pulse of worry thrumming lightly through him, but something had calmed.

Rachel surrounded them at their lockers one day with her grand plan- the plan Kurt had suggested to Blaine weeks before- about going to Prom in a group.

"There's you two, me, Mercedes and Sam," she rambled, Kurt nodding at her words but Blaine not sure if he was really paying attention. "I think that's it. And then I think we should meet up around six at somewhere for dinner-"

She trailed on about her plans for the night, Kurt nodding with the same blank expression and Blaine trying to keep up with the flurry of ideas coming out her mouth at once. She would have carried on a lot longer if Blaine hadn't reminded her they'd be late for class if she kept talking, forcing her to check herself and apologise as she ran off in the opposite direction to where Kurt and Blaine were heading.

"So Santana and Brittany aren't joining the group?" Blaine checked with Kurt as they steadily made their way down the now empty hall. He checked the people off in his head. An odd number, he counted again suppressing a sigh of somewhat relief.

"No, Brittany's going by herself," Kurt answered, voice low and face twisted into a small scowl.

"Well, who is Santana going with then?" Blaine trailed after Kurt as he swung the cane, hitting the wall with a smack before they turned.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Kurt sighed, face turned down to the floor.

"Try me," Blaine said, although warily.

"Karofsky." Kurt's voice was incredibly low now, the scowl almost intensified by having to say the name.

Blaine bit back a shout of surprise, checking over his shoulder to make sure the corridor was still empty and reaching out to grab Kurt's shoulder, bringing him to a faltering halt. He jerked away at Blaine's sudden touch.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly. "But... you have to explain to me." He was beyond caring about being late now. It was going on six, seven minutes at most.

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. She told me yesterday. Reluctantly. I think she thought I'd tell her off."

"Did you not?" Blaine raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"No," Kurt replied, a little shortly. "I didn't want to have another argument with her just before Prom, but she got that I was unhappy with it."

"But why-"

"I wish I knew," Kurt cut in, and his voice was so empty, Blaine didn't know whether it was from disappointment or frustration at not understanding. Kurt shrugged his shoulders and turned slowly away to start walking to class, back turned to Blaine in an obvious sign of how the conversation was over.

It was a hiccough in Kurt's excitement, even if he continued to talk and laugh excitedly with the others, sometimes Blaine would glance over to him, his face an image of empty expression. Lost and thoughtful.

It was a few days before Prom as he was flicking through his folders at his locker when the door of it was snapped shut, blowing air against his face as it barely missed him. He glanced up in shock, Santana staring at him, face guarded.

"Morning?" Blaine greeted carefully. She scowled, and Blaine felt his feet shifting away from her.

"Listen," she started, head snapping back to glance over her shoulder. It was early, and the hall remained pretty empty but for the odd student filtering through rushing to finish a piece of homework in the library. "I talked to Kurt yesterday." Blaine raised his eyebrows, confused. Santana rolled her eyes. "About the whole Karofsky thing."

"Oh," Blaine replied, waiting as she shook her head.

"I told him I'm using him to get Prom Queen, and also to keep him in check, so you don't shit your panties again," she told him, and Blaine started. "Don't get so tetchy. The point is, I told him I was doing this for you, but I think you know I care about you very little."

"Gee, thanks."

And to his surprise, Santana laughed, before another quick glance over her shoulder. "That's a lie, actually," she admitted. "You're growing on me. Like a parasite I can't shake off, but still." She shrugged, a soft smile on her lips to indicate she was perhaps joking.

Blaine smiled back meekly. He still wasn't sure what to make of Santana.

"You're keeping him away from Kurt," Blaine stated, Santana smiling as he caught on.

"Keeping him away from his cronies, more like," she corrected him. "Kurt's never been to a school dance before. I want him to have a great night, which means keeping the dicks who think it'd be funny to trip him up all night away."

"You don't think they'd do that?" Blaine was only half shocked. A short memory of the look on Karofsky's face as he'd stared down at Kurt on their Night of Neglect, and he felt a chill creep along his skin. Santana blinked, brow creasing.

"I wouldn't put it past them," she sighed. "They think it's funny to knock into him in the corridors. Think of what they'd do when they have the excuse of a room full of a couple of hundred teenagers all crowded together."

Blaine frowned. "Yes but, people would do that? I just-" He cut himself off at the look on Santana's face. If she'd been rolling her eyes, or shaking her head, or looking at him like he was odd, he would of carried on because he would have expected. But the look on her face was soft, something almost akin to pity there. "What?"

"Nothing," she said with a shrug, leaning back against the lockers, another quick side glance to the end of the corridor. A few more students were beginning to trickle through, this time in pairs or groups. "Just your naivety is actually quite endearing." She tilted her head around and smiled again. "You think the fact Artie is in a wheelchair stops people like that slushying him? Or locking him in a porta-potty? You think because Kurt is blind they won't steal his pencils in class when his helper isn't looking, or trip him up in an empty corridor?"

Blaine's silence was enough of an answer for her, his eyes cast down to the floor in thought. No, he thought, he wasn't that naive. When he looked back up, Santana was looking at him, with a small grimace.

"You're going with him, though, so I thought I'd tell you," she clarified, pushing herself off the lockers.

"In a group," Blaine corrected her quickly. "We aren't going together _together_." He may have seemed a bit too adamant, because she stared him down, without blinking, something funny flashing across her face.

"Right..." Her voice trailed, eyes still glued to Blaine. "Well you can still look after him. Though to be honest, he'll probably do a better job of looking after you. While I look after Karofsky."

"How are you getting Karofsky to go with you?" Blaine asked. Santana laughed.

"Blackmail." She grinned at him, another look back to the entrance where more students were filing in. This time Kurt was with them, the rest of the students leaving space around Kurt as he swung his cane lightly.

"With what?" Blaine wondered, but Santana only shook her head at him and laughed again.

"I have my ways," she said with a wink, and slipped past, into the crowds and on to another corridor, like she'd never even been there, and yet everything seemed further set in stone.

It was almost oddly unsurprising how when he wanted the school days to end, they would drag endlessly, the second hand always going that slight bit too slow, and yet on this week, of all weeks, when he wished the days would tick away slowly, Saturday arrived as if Monday had only just ended. Blaine clambered out of bed in the morning with Santana's words still pressed in his ears, even though he fought his best to ignore them. As far as he'd concerned himself, he was going to the Prom to enjoy a night with his friends, not to look after Kurt, who really didn't need- or want- looking after.

He leaned against the sink and stared at the whiteheads scattered over his nose, ones he could only see close up, and studied his face in the mirror, wanting to push those words away. What Santana meant by looking after, she had meant in the sense of watching for Kurt when he couldn't. Without smothering him, treating him like he was incapable of looking after himself. He splashed his face and looked up again, the curls in his bangs slightly damp and dripping.

He wanted to know what went through a freshman Santana's head, what had made her build a wall around herself and Kurt, keep him safe without blocking him from everything. When had it become less about following instructions from a cheerleading coach to the personal something it had now become?

Slightly before five, he opened the front door to find Mercedes hoisting her dress up above her ankles, bag clasped in one hand, pressed into the frills of her dress. She looked as stunning as ever, or more so, practically radiating in the doorway against the background of the evening sun.

"You look gorgeous, Mercedes," he told her, moving aside to let her in.

"You too," she laughed, looking up to his hair. "Even with only half your head gelled. Am I early?" She laughed again as he reached his hand up to his hair, blushing.

"Uh... no," he chuckled. "I'm running late." He laughed again nervously and blundered through the hallway to show her to the living room. "You can wait here if you like, while I go finish up." And before he could splutter out any more apologies Mercedes was shooing him away, laughing at his nerves.

He'd nearly finished when another knock came to the door, and grabbed his jacket with a speedy click shut of his bedroom door. He found Mercedes opening the front door to Sam, grinning in the doorway. Blaine didn't miss how Sam glanced sideways at Mercedes, one quick look and almost a flash of surprise through his eyes, thanking silently that there would be an odd number in the group. And there would be little chance of being alone with Kurt. At a Prom. With music and dancing and less than a breath of space between them. Less chance of less than appropriate glances and the churn of the unfamiliar air that sometimes settled between the two when they ran out of words.

Less chance of anyone thinking they were going _together_.

He greeted Sam warmly, a short compliment on his suit that he knew to be borrowed for his dad, but when Sam's grin faltered, he let his words trail away with an awkward smile.

Mercedes grabbed them both by the arms and looped hers through them as they made their way down the sidewalk, all ignoring the heat in their prom outfits as they laughed on their way to the restaurant. Even beneath the weak late spring sun, it was warm, Mercedes fanning herself with her clutch bag and unlinking her arm from Blaine's to brush hair off her face.

Not a mention was made of it, though. All thoughts on the lack of money, or the prom-on-a-budget were forgotten in the heat and the laughter, and everything was about Prom. Glancing at Sam briefly to see the small sign of relief there, Blaine found himself for the first time, not minding that was what the subject of conversation was heading and would remain at for the rest of the night.

When they arrived at Breadstix, the restaurant serving the cheapest meals they could find that wasn't a McDonalds,("Hell no, I am not having my Prom meal at Mc-hardly-edible," Mercedes had complained, as Kurt laughed beside her in the choir room the previous week.) they all collapsed at their table, exhausted already but still laughing.

"When will Rachel and Kurt get here?" Sam asked, waving the menu in front of him, leaning back in the booth at the relief of the cool air.

Mercedes glanced up at the clock. "Any time now," she said. Then hesitated. "And Jesse too."

"Who?" Blaine and Sam chimed, both their eyebrows rising.

Mercedes frowned. "Yeah I was meant to tell you both..." She sighed. "Rachel's bringing her ex-boyfriend."

Sam blinked, and Blaine held in a groan.

So much for odd numbers.

"I thought it was meant to be just us guys?" Sam frowned, a small twist of the lips, but visibly unhappy.

"You want to argue against Rachel, be my guest," Mercedes told him, earning a laugh from both him and Blaine, some tension melting before it had even really settled. Mercedes laughs quietened as she nudged him in the side lightly and he glanced up at her to see her nodding over in the direction of the door.

When he turned, the first he saw was a tall boy, standing with a cocky grin on his face, an easy air about him. The boy glanced back over his shoulder-after sending a waitress a slight smile- to the others following in after him. Blaine lifted up to glance over the booth and grinned widely as he saw Rachel with her arm tucked through Kurt's.

He was gripping onto Rachel's arm tightly, although it loosened as he stepped indoors. Rachel was glancing at him and back to her ex-boyfriend (Jesse, Mercedes had called him, Blaine reminded himself) but keeping her eyes on Kurt a second longer, whispering something to him. He nodded an answer, but didn't turn his head to her.

Rachel looked radiant, her hair up and out her face for a change, showing how beautiful she really looked when she smiled as she was the moment she spotted Mercedes waving them over. Jesse, Blaine had to admit, looked very handsome in his suit, his grin nothing short of smug the entire time, slightly marring his handsome face for Blaine.

But Kurt. Kurt was something else. Kurt was always something else.

As they made their way over to their table, his smile grew easy and his face lighting up with it, even if part was hidden behind his dark glasses. His hair too was out of his face for a change; it made him look older, but for the soft redness to his cheeks, making him look infinitely youthful.

Blaine finally took a moment to take in Kurt's outfit and felt his breath catch in his throat. It was well-fitted, and snug around him, his legs well defined under the leggings, even his boots seemed tailored to bring out the shape of them.

Blaine's eyes darted back up, feeling his own cheeks burning. Kurt was his friend. He'd never thought anything about the clothes he'd worn before, and Blaine had never really allowed himself a moment to really notice that Kurt had a body beneath those clothes.

As they gathered around the table, Kurt reached out a hand to touch the edge. Blaine opened his mouth slightly to say something- tell Kurt how... how lovely he looked. And his voice seemed to stick in his throat. He was vaguely aware of how the others were moving and talking around him, maybe even embracing their hellos, but he hardly cared.

"You're wearing a skirt," he blurted out. He promptly shut his mouth, wishing he could swallow the words as Kurt's little smile faltered.

"It's a kilt," he said defensively, his cheeks seemingly even more red than before. If it were possible to drown in idiocy, Blaine would be a goner. He swallowed a little tightly.

"No I mean," he started to say. "You look different. I mean good different. You look well. I mean nice. You look nice." The words fell away in a rush. An embarrassing rush.

Let it be known, on this day, Blaine Anderson was dragged out to sea by a huge wave of idiocy, drowning in his own humiliation.

Kurt's face split into a smile, a larger one than before, the redness in his face making it look that kind of adorable that Blaine could only smile back at. Kurt didn't say anything in reply, and only then did Blaine realise the entire table was looking at them. He glanced across to see Rachel sat between Mercedes and Jesse, grinning over at him. She quirked her head and met Mercedes's eyes and they both exchanged a small, almost knowing smile.

"Are you two done flirting?" Sam was the one to bluntly interrupt the silence. "Can we order some food now?"

Blaine didn't think it was actually possible, but it certainly felt like he was blushing up to his roots. He glanced at Kurt, who scoffed through a short laugh and began to find his way around the table, fingers skimming the edge, hand reaching out into the empty space beside Blaine. His fingers brushed softly, and very momentarily, against the side of Blaine's leg. He tilted his head up, still leaning over to find space, so their faces were level.

"Hi," he said softly, smiling at Blaine.

"Hi," Blaine breathed back, drinking in Kurt's face for the moment it was there in front of him, before he shifted to sit, and his face was away from Blaine's. The others had begun their chatter again, reading from the menus and beginning their overly loud conversations so hadn't noticed the small exchange. Whatever that small exchange had been.

Blaine coughed. "You haven't got your cane," he noted when the first round of drinks were brought over.

"No, it gets in the way," Kurt replied, after a sip of his coke. "You know, I'll just stick to people. Make sure I don't trip over anyone." He laughed, but there was the undertone of a well-hidden anxiety beneath it.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Blaine teased, a small attempt at easing the situation.

Kurt smiled. There was not much space between them, cramped around the table, but he lifted his hand off it and reached across to touch Blaine's arm. He caught him by the elbow, skimming his fingers down Blaine's jacket sleeve until they were over his hand, lying in his lap. He threaded their fingers together and rested them under the table, not saying a word, leaving them clasped even after their meals arrived, forcing them both to eat with one hand.

Blaine was very warm, and it had nothing to do with the weather outside.

* * *

><p>The gym had been completely transformed so it barely resembled the bleak arena their assemblies were held. Despite being immersed in the dark, it seemed brighter than it ever had, the banners and streamers highlighting the room and brightening the space allowed for dancing. That space that was constantly streaming with laughing and hyper students, the sophomores that had snuck in without dates blended in with the rest, the floor a mess of overheated bodies dancing to the blaring music.<p>

The lights flashed around them and Blaine blinked, turning away, the strain to his eyes hurting his head. Rachel was on the dance floor with Jesse, whom Blaine found tolerable if a little arrogant, and he, Mercedes, Kurt and Sam were crowded around a table again, laughing over the noise around them.

"Who are you voting for Prom Queen and King?" Mercedes leaned over and asked Blaine and Kurt when Sam went off to the stage to sing with Puck and Artie.

"Santana, obviously," a voice behind Blaine announced. He leaned his head back to see Brittany lean across him and grab his drink. She was visibly sweaty from all the dancing she'd been doing, wiping her hand across her forehead as she put the cup back down. "But not Karofsky." She threw a dark look across the room and Blaine followed where her eyes went.

Santana was dancing with Karofsky, and she was actually laughing, seemingly forgetting herself. Blaine looked back at Brittany, her expression softer. He smiled up at her, feeling warm and lightheaded. She caught his smile and her own face split.

"Hello, sunshine," she laughed. "Did Puck spike the punch?"

Blaine shook his head, eyes darting to Kurt, who was taking a large drink from his cup.

"No," he told her. "I'm just happy." He didn't take his eyes off Kurt. Brittany pulled up a chair next to him and fell down into it, stretching.

"I think," Kurt said, "I'm going to do a write-in vote. Prom Queen should be the most beautiful girl in the room. That honour I think should go to Mercedes here."

Mercedes threw back her head and barked out a laugh, curls falling into her eyes. Blaine smiled and took his glass back off Brittany to raise it.

"Hear, hear," he chimed, and Brittany leaned across to grab Sam's neglected glass and raised that too, until the three of them exclaimed around her, "Mercedes for Queen!"

She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye as she giggled. "You all better not. I do not want to be caught between Quinn and Santana in a fist fight." The rest of the table roared out in laughter at that, earning a glance from a group of sophomore girls on the opposite table.

Kurt leaned to the side and mumbled something into Mercedes's ear, herself leaning in so he could find it. She laughed almost silently to what Kurt said. Blaine watched them laugh together, the corner of his lip tugging up.

The song came to an end, the boys on stage bowing to the applause, moving off to be replaced by Mike and Tina. Blaine threw a wave to Mike, and then a thumbs-up. Mike caught it and smiled through his nerves.

"Good luck," he mouthed.

Sam rejoined the group at the table, Artie coming up behind him. As Mike and Tina began their rendition of _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_, Brittany sprung up and grabbed Mercedes by the arm.

"Your Majesty," she said with a small curtsey. "Time to dance, come on." She tugged Mercedes up and pulled her onto the dance floor, both disappearing as Mercedes laughed, "Is that how you address your Queen!"

Sam and Artie laughed after them, joining them through the throng of people. Blaine watched them go, almost longingly, but stayed glued in his chair. He looked over to Kurt, last traces of his smile barely visible now. He was quiet, threading his fingers on top of the table. Blaine took a breath.

"Want to join them?" he asked and smiled as Kurt's head shot up, grin wide. He nodded and Blaine slot his arm through Kurt's, guiding him around the table to join the group as they waded through the crowds clumped together.

As they reached the circle of their friends, Mercedes linked her arm around Kurt, and his arm fell from Blaine's. He moved to dance next to Sam and Artie, who were both moving awkwardly and hilariously about in the small space they had. He glanced over the circle. Kurt was giggling between Mercedes and Brittany, both holding him so he didn't fall into the group behind them.

They were in a group, they could dance and they were safe. Blaine smiled at Kurt. He smiled at him, and he wished- he really, really wished- Kurt could see it.

Mike and Tina were waving themselves off the stage, and there was silence as the crowds waited for the music to start again. Blaine remembered himself. He shot through the crowd, and jumped up onto the stage, Brittany following him, sliding to her backup microphone. He saw in the corner of his eye the rest of the group move back to the table. Kurt sat down, leaning his elbows on the top, waving Sam and Mercedes away to go dance.

Then the band started up behind him, and he had to begin singing, and ripped his eyes from Kurt's slightly flushed face and closed them. He breathed the music and smiled almost into the song, lost to everything else in the room for a few short minutes.

When he reached their table again, Mercedes and Sam looked a little more serious than they had when he'd left, and Kurt was sucking on his lip. Rachel was leaning over the table with her head in her hands. Puck had joined the group, moving uneasily on the balls of his feet.

"What's the matter?" Brittany asked, breathless.

"Finn and Jesse just got thrown out," Mercedes told them. "They started fighting while you were singing. And Artie tried to spike the punch, so he's been taken out by Sue." Blaine saw Puck shift uncomfortably next to Sam, before he announced he was getting a drink and scooted off.

"Me too," Rachel announced, head shooting up, hurrying off in Puck's trail.

"We were only singing for five minutes," Brittany said. "How did we miss all that?"

"Blink and you miss everything." Kurt's voice was heavy, unsaid irony dripping in his words.

The air between the remaining ones of them at the table was stiff, the laughter from before and the mindless chatter dissolved. Another song began, slower than all the others before. Sam and Mercedes looked at each other and waved awkwardly on the spot.

"Go dance," Blaine told them, moving to sit close to Kurt, despite his warmth and ignoring his damp forehead. They smiled at him, and slid past the table to dance together. Blaine watched them with a soft smile, listening to the song Tina was singing with eyes closed.

He felt soft pressure against his side, eyes opening slowly. Kurt was leaning into him, listening to the song as Blaine was. Blaine took in the small frown on his mouth, and the hand tapping against his leg in rhythm with the music. He opened his mouth, but it was incredibly dry. He remained still in his chair. Eyes closing again not to enjoy the music this time, but in shame, that he couldn't even ask Kurt to dance.

His hand clenched in his lap and then Kurt's fingers were over it once more, and it relaxed as Kurt brushed over the back of his hand, turning it over to clasp their palms together.

Blaine looked up from their hands to Kurt's face.

"Are you okay?" He didn't need an answer. He could already read it from Kurt's face.

"No." His face wasn't in Blaine's direction, but directed ahead. He didn't turn it to answer. "I want to dance."

Blaine sighed. "I know, Kurt. I mean, we kind of have. A bit." Kurt shook his head but didn't loosen his grip on Blaine's hand.

"Barely," he disagreed. "It was fun, but I want to _dance_. I've been practising for months. I want to dance at my Prom. Mercedes has Sam. Rachel has Jesse-"

"Not any more," Blaine reminded him. "He got kicked out. You could dance with her."

"Not the point, Blaine." He sounded tired. Exasperated. But he didn't pull his hand from Blaine's in the slightest. He tilted his face, so it was completely opposite Blaine's. Blaine swallowed his breaths. His eyes scanned over Kurt's face, inches from his own. He could probably count the scattered freckles across his nose if they stayed paused for long enough.

"I like you," Kurt said plainly.

Blaine blinked, trying to take in Kurt's short words and his face in at the same time. Trying to ignore the urge and the wish to see his whole face. He really wished he could, especially in this moment. It seemed important. The words were simple enough, words Blaine already knew were true, and yet there seemed to be more weight on them, in this overcrowded, sweaty room, with their faces so close and their hands pressed so tightly together.

"I like you, too," Blaine replied after a beat, the words also oddly heavy on his tongue. The thin line of Kurt's mouth quirked.

"I want to dance with you," Kurt told him, lips still turned up.

"Yeah," Blaine breathed, barely aware of what he was agreeing to. Tina's voice was fading, and what a beautiful voice it was to have in the background at that moment. How much more intimate a seemingly insignificant moment on an unimportant table in the middle of the gym was made. He didn't want to continue the sentence, not wanting to ruin anything, but it carried on without him. His voice breaking as he admitted it. "But I'm scared, Kurt."

"So am I," Kurt said thickly. Blaine breathed out a laugh and Kurt followed. Tina's voice was gone now, light clapping surrounding the room as she made her way off the stage. Blaine pulled his hand away to clap her, watching as she hugged Mike at the edge of the floor.

Santana was moving up the steps on to the stage and made her way over to the microphone. She tapped it a couple of times, the frequency ringing out across the room. Kurt flinched next to him and nudged at Blaine when he laughed.

"Only a few more songs before the Junior Prom Queen and King are revealed," she spoke down the microphone. "So move your asses and vote. For me. Obviously." Kurt shook a little in his laughter next to him, before the sound of the music started drowning him out. It was an upbeat one, one he recognised from his mom playing in the kitchen as she cooked. A Dusty Springfield one he couldn't help but smile to.

He thought quickly as Santana began to sing. There had just been a slow song. Another one wouldn't be planned until the Prom Queen was announced. He wasn't particularly sure how playlisting for a Prom worked, he was well aware, but he counted on the next few to be fast. He could dance to an upbeat song.

For Kurt. He could.

He pulled himself up and extended his hand, resting it on Kurt's shoulder.

"May I have this dance?" Kurt grinned and tilted his head up, a short nod following. He lifted himself up and Blaine directed them around the groups of dancers, slipping past until they had some space around them. Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and tugged him, a soft spin along with Kurt's musical laughter.

They danced careful for barely a few seconds, the music then carrying them, their feet taking them with the pace, their giggles following. They moved into the music and forgot nearly everything around them- the other dancers, their friends, their conversation moments before.

Blaine fumbled a little, loosening his grip on Kurt so he could move more smoothly. Kurt gripped onto Blaine's sleeves.

"I don't want to fall over!" he yelped, but his laugh followed it, and then he stumbled over his own feet, colliding into Blaine with the fall.

"It's okay," Blaine assured him, trying to lift him up. "I've got you." But Kurt lifted his head up from Blaine's shoulder, laughter peeling away from him in short bursts before he couldn't stop, pressing his cheek against Blaine's, still cackling in his ear and spinning him around. Blaine relaxed, laughing too. He tilted his head, lips brushing against Kurt's cheek accidentally, but neither really bothered to take notice.

He pulled his face away to look at Kurt though, who was still grinning, pulling his hands down now to link them with Blaine's and dancing that way. Blaine grinned too. Widely and unashamedly. Kurt, who only a few months ago tugged sharply away after tripping up, closing off and wanting to stop, had just stumbled. And he was laughing. Laughing like he couldn't remember what being ashamed or embarrassed was meant to feel like.

The song came to an abrupt end, and both breathing heavily and still smiling, they pulled away to clap Santana off the stage.

Sam had taken over the microphone again, waving at the swarm of girls at the front grabbing at him. Blaine smiled, regaining his breath as Kurt did.

As he expected another fast-paced song to begin, the band behind Sam struck up a tune on the piano. A beautiful melody playing before Sam began to sing. A beautiful, slow melody

A slow song.

"Want to sit back down?" Blaine asked hurriedly, looking at Kurt in time to see his smile fall. The groups around them had already begun to split off into couples, or leave the floor completely. Blaine moved to follow the ones leaving but the look on Kurt's face made the food he'd eaten earlier sit heavily in his stomach. As he turned he caught Santana's eyes from at the side of the stage. She wasn't glaring, but there was something there in her eyes. She was staring past him, to Kurt and then back to himself. He held her gaze, and then looked behind him, where Kurt stood.

He could see it written completely over his face. He could see as plain as day. He'd barely moved to follow Blaine, the smile he'd worn before untraceable. He couldn't turn away and leave him of something he wanted so badly.

He moved back up to Kurt and took his hand.

A quick glance over his shoulder. Santana had them all under control. He was okay. They were okay.

"You want to dance?" he heard himself say, though it seemed too far off to actually be him.

"Yeah," Kurt answered softly. "Yes. Please. I'd... slow dance. At Prom. Please."

Blaine had already taken a his arm and wrapped it around Kurt before he'd finished answering, his other hand staying in Kurt's as they swayed softly to the music. The short moment of whether it would end up being awkward left Blaine as soon as Kurt relaxed into him, and it was just how it had been with the previous song.

There were no people, and there was no consciousness of before or awareness of after. It was him and Kurt and the song.

"I wanted to tell you," Kurt muttered. His voice was low, but beside Blaine's ear. He faltered, voice too thick with emotion.

"Tell me what?" Blaine mumbled. He was so lost in the sounds. His eyes fell shut. Kurt's breath in his ear, the song soft around them.

"I wanted tell you," he started again, and Blaine opened his eyes to look at Kurt. "When you said I looked nice at dinner. I wanted to say it back." Blaine almost stopped moving. Somehow his feet kept the pace. Somehow he kept swaying with Kurt. But how Kurt's voice stuck. How it shook. It was almost a clean break through Blaine's chest. "I really wanted to say it back." His hand tightened in Blaine's.

That tightened hand must have kept him from crumbling. If he let go, Blaine was sure to. He opened his mouth, willing something to say. But he was stuck. Kurt's own lips parted, but his words were lost too, and Blaine had to force back the chuckle. They were both so lost now to continue.

So Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, the position only slightly uncomfortable until Kurt moved their arms. Until he and Kurt were closer than they really should have been, and Blaine's eyes were falling shut again, Kurt's breath still in his ear, and the scent of his aftershave surrounding Blaine.

There was that wave again, drowning him still, and so overwhelming. Except this time he welcomed it. This time his stupidity was as much a part of him as anything else. He moved away from Kurt and looked at him. He let his eyes take in Kurt's face. How his hair had come out of place, how it fell across his forehead, and stuck up at the side. How his cheeks were deep in colour from the warmth. How his lips twisted in confusion as Blaine pulled away.

"Blaine?" The song was coming to a slow end now, the final notes coming up soon to be followed by a soft round of applause. "What's wrong?"

Blaine bit his lip, and moved forward again, hand twisting back into Kurt's, arm around him once more, resting in the small of his back.

"Nothing," he muttered, completely in truth, as the final note of the song rang out.

The distant memory of a phone call with Rachel rang too through his own thoughts. How she'd insisted Blaine had realised he was in love because he'd wanted to kiss Kurt. How he'd argued against her.

_Besides, falling in love would feel a lot more... something more than that._

_How would you know? _

He hadn't had an answer then for her. What it would feel like. What it would be.

_It would feel something like this_, he thought.

He gripped Kurt closer even as everyone else pulled away to clap, his head once again on his shoulder, his eyes closed, nothing but Kurt around him.

_It would feel something like this._

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Oh my God... I've been waiting 7 months to write that and I'm just completely beat. 10,000 words and 20 word pages for this chapter and I'm worn down. I'm pretty pleased with it? I was worried about writing it because it's been written in my head for so long, and I was so worried about translating it well enough. The only thing I wrote in my plan was 'and finally Blaine stops being so stressful to write, the oblivious IDIOT!' I don't know I'm kind of relieved at the way it came out. Please do let me know what you think; your comments are really appreciated. Thank you for reading!_**


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

><p>A few days after Prom, gossip starting spilling through the school halls that Sue Sylvester's sister had died. Blaine hadn't even known she had a sister but he felt it too- the engorging murk around him, energy sucked out of him in the way that usually comes with death. The Glee club mourned in their own way. There were silences and awkward trailing sentences left hanging in the air. Slumped shoulders and everyone trying to pull themselves out of the murk.<p>

Blaine couldn't help but let himself focus on Kurt through it all.

Blaine found out near enough as soon as he met him that Kurt deals. He dealt with the feelings and other ideas. He dealt through things most others wouldn't even dare to think about dealing with.

How Kurt dealt with feelings and didn't let them spill over- or shout them across a room, how he dealt and didn't explode from keeping them all hidden by a blank expression and arms crossed over his chest- Blaine wished he could figure it out himself. To control his heart from ripping from him as its beats increased with a rush of blood in his ears, or stop his stomach from swooping and failing to settle, or the sudden urge to cry. Happening every time he'd looked up and seen Kurt since prom night. Since the night when they settled down to sleep, and Blaine made himself sleep to the sounds of Kurt's breathing soften as he fell further into his dreams. From the morning after, when he'd woken up on Kurt's floor in a borrowed sleeping bag, and looked up to find Kurt typing at his desk, hair still not brushed, pyjamas still on, he couldn't breathe. Everything had rushed to his head and crushed inwards on his chest; he simultaneously couldn't remember how to or couldn't physically breathe.

"Kurt," he choked out, and Kurt had smiled at the sound of his raspy voice.

"Morning," he replied, not stilling his typing or moving his head. "How are you? Good sleep?"

Blaine swallowed and shifted only slightly in his sleeping bag. Throat hurting again as his breath seemed harder and harder to retain a hold on. He opened his mouth to answer but only a strangled noise came out.

"Kurt."

He turned around at this, fingers clasping over the lid of his laptop and shutting it, tilting himself so he faced Blaine.

"Are you alright?" He sounded worried.

Blaine felt himself holding back on burning tears, and the cold emptiness surrounded him against the deep warmth in the bottom of his stomach, spreading delicately through him, almost a drizzle of awareness through his body. It almost hurt.

The longer he looked at Kurt, it definitely hurt.

_No. No, I'm not. I'm in love with you and can't even tell if you feel an inkling of the same feeling towards me._

"Tired," he remembered croaking out.

It was the same burn through him now, as he looked over at Kurt in the choir room. He'd thought it'd wear down, and maybe it would. It hadn't yet. The burn hadn't dulled, it still stung like it had the morning he'd woken up and seen Kurt with fresh eyes, away from the haze of the gym.

It still ached. It still hurt to be that close and only laugh and talk and touch as only friends. He felt himself pulling away from Kurt at times when being that close was physical torture, only to want to lean across and burst out how he really felt about him.

Kurt had felt the shift; he must have, because he wouldn't pull away. If anything he only seemed to tug a little closer to Blaine, and as it would turn out Blaine's will to distance himself was swamped by his need to stick as close to Kurt as he could.

He felt another urge to speak. To let words fall and let it stop pressing against him, pushing him down.

And then Mr Schue called for their attention, and all thoughts of questions and confessions peeled away.

* * *

><p>He knocked on the door lightly. There was no answer. He knocked again, tapping his cane lightly against the side of his leg as he waited. He was about to turn and leave when he heard the soft scramble from behind the door, and so leaned across and opened it.<p>

"Did I say you could come in?" the voice of Sue Sylvester snapped, and there was a swift movement as if she were hiding something, until faltering as Kurt entered the room. "Oh, it's you." Her voice was thick, unusually so.

"I needed to talk to you, Coach," Kurt said as he stepped a little closer into the room. "Please."

She sniffed, and Kurt heard a soft thump of a hand against the desk.

"Close the door behind you," she told him. "And please be careful with that stick of yours. There are valuable things in here." Her words lacked her usual zeal, weak and almost shaky, but Kurt did as she asked, door clicking behind him as he steadied himself. He'd never been in her office before, but took a few tentative steps forward, cane colliding with something that must have been the leg of a chair as it shifted when it met. He guided himself slowly around until he was sat, all very aware of Sue silently watching him.

"I heard about your sister," Kurt said softly, settling into the chair. "I'm very sorry." Sue didn't say anything, not even making a small sound for Kurt to bounce off. He shifted. "I wondered if there was anything I could do to... um..." The words had been there only five minutes earlier. And now they were lost. Faced with her in front of him, the words sounded meaningless no matter how much he meant them. He hesitated, thinking quickly in changing his words, but he couldn't.

"To help?" Sue asked. Kurt nodded stiffly, fidgeting with his cane with both hands. He could hear her fingers drumming against her desk and his own heart in his ears. "What would you plan on doing?"

Kurt opened his mouth to answer but she cut through. "Get your glee club to sing a melancholy tune. Celebrate her life? Always look on the bright side, is that right, Ray Charles? Or would you like to talk to me about how I feel? Is that what you want me to do?"

She had moved her chair back, steps moving away from him, seemingly uncaring about exactly what Kurt would do. Seemingly. On the surface. But Kurt had lost someone before, and he knew the surface was only a blanket covering the cracks beneath.

He paused for a second, licking his lips that felt dry as he opened his mouth.

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, to all those." Her sneakers squeaked against the floor, rubbing as she must have turned to face him. She probably hadn't expected him to answer her sarcastic questions seriously, but she maybe should have known better than to talk that way with someone who knew all about hiding grief and pain behind snarky.

"I don't want it," she struggled out, another sniff. "I don't want any of that. And I don't want you feeling sorry for me."

"No one needs or wants people feeling sorry for them," Kurt said softly. "They want people there to understand. There's a difference." He paused, waiting to see if she'd interrupt. When she didn't he continued. "I understand. Not exactly, I can't really understand your feelings, but I understand to a better extent than most people here. I was offering support. You may not need pity, but everybody needs support once in a while."

Lifting himself up, he felt out the back of the chair beneath his fingers, ready to guide himself around and out the room again. He'd come to talk, or at least offer, and he had tried. But he wasn't needed or even wanted, so there was very little point in him staying.

"There is something you could do," she spoke up, an unusual quirk of softness in her voice. "You can get that tree of a brother of yours to help me clean out her room. He can do some heavy lifting for me."

Kurt nodded slowly, fingers messing against the edge of the cane as he attempted to find words to leave on.

"You can go now," she demanded.

He nodded a little too much, a little frantic, and turned to get out of the room, opening the door and clicking the door a little forcefully behind him.

He'd tried. He hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted to stay away from the whole thing but he had tried. There was something in that, he guessed.

The choir room was empty when he got there, Glee having ended an hour before and Kurt having stayed behind to talk to Sue. But it was somewhere empty where he needed to be. Automatically directing himself towards where the piano was, settling onto the stool and fingers having a mind of their own and beginning to play. It was only a few seconds before he stopped, the sounds too distant for what he wanted. He didn't need distance; he needed familiarity. He needed something he could hold onto.

He was out of practice. Something he would once practise every day became every other day and then relying on his keyboard at home to keep up. And a keyboard was nothing in comparison. It didn't hold the warmth a piano did; it was always electronically in tune to be sure, but didn't have the same effect on him as a beautifully tuned piano.

"Hey," a voice poked out from somewhere behind him. He didn't shift, hand stilled over the keys, lost in an attempt at concentration. Footsteps echoed around him and a chair was scraped across the floor, a body landing with a small thump to sit beside him. "You have to press the keys for them to make a sound, Hummel."

He pressed against them hard, the harsh sound ringing in his ears even as the sound seemed to wither into an empty silence. Santana didn't say anything, her chair creaking only slightly. And Kurt slammed his hand down again, and then another time, until the ringing was all he could hear, and he didn't have to focus on anything else. He wasn't even aware he'd started crying, until Santana was there in front of him, pulling his wrist away from the piano, and grabbing the other one where his hand was clenched in his lap.

"Hey, hey," she snapped as he tried to force her off. He tried again to push her away, breaths a bit harsh but she dug her fingers into his wrists, holding them in front of him. "I'm sorry."

His breaths slowed and her fingers loosened their grip. She tugged away, and then she was back, kneeling so she was level with him, wrapping her arms a little too tightly around his waist. It took a second, and then he copied, arms over her shoulders and pressing into the warmth.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice soft and almost empty.

When he pulled away, he rubbed at his nose, sniffing and turning his head.

"Do you want to go home?" Santana asked, quietly, tentative edge there. Kurt shook his head.

"I think I'm going to stay and play awhile," he replied. Santana shifted away a little, leaving the space where her hand had been resting barren and cold.

"Can I stay?"

Kurt looked up, directing himself to where her voice had struggled out, no hint of a smile on his face, with a vacant expression.

"Please." His voice cracked as he said it, and she sat back down, the edge of the piano creaking beside him as she leant against it.

And he played. He played notes against notes against clashing chords, and he didn't care if they crashed. He played delicately and softly so the sounds of the keys were dying before the next one played. Songs for Santana, who sat without a word for the time he practised, songs for Blaine, and the comfort and support he gave; songs for his father and Carole, and even Finn, songs that reminded him of family; a melody for his mother that picked up somewhere in the middle, turning it into something that reflected her wide eyes or bright smile, and the laughter she created; and a song for Sue's sister- Jean, he remembered, her name is Jean- who he'd barely known, yet it all brought back so much. So much in memories he could only attempt to bury with the rising ache it brought back.

He played. And he forgot. He wrapped himself up and he emptied it all into the songs. He didn't know how long he sat there and played the mindless tunes, and maybe he could have gone on for longer, forever playing, if his hands hadn't started to hurt, if he hadn't become vividly aware Santana was still there, wasting her time away like he was. He drew it to a close, clasping his hands in his lap and shifting away from the keys.

"It's not fair." It came out petulant, his tone was so whiny, but he couldn't stop himself from saying it. The piano creaked, but Santana didn't move away.

"Life's not fair."

"Well, it should be," he bit back, voice thick, tilting his chin up and blinking rapidly. "It should be and... I'm being selfish. Because all I can think about is Mom, and this has nothing to with her."

"Listen," Santana interrupted, sharply. She moved around so she was kneeling next to him once more. "You deal. I get that. And you do a pretty good job of making everyone here think you deal so well. But don't you put on a mask in front of me; you can't bullshit me with that. I know better than any of them." She was forceful in her words, but the hand on his arm was nothing but something to anchor him. "You deal like any of the rest of us do. As selfish or lonely as that is. Let yourself be fucking selfish, Kurt, but don't make yourself lonely."

He leant his hand across, and she met his with hers. He nodded heavily, her words crashing over him, but not crushing him. Just going through him, washing themselves over. He nodded because he understood. It was a heavy realisation, but only made him feel lighter.

* * *

><p>It had been a long week, one that had dragged and Blaine had waded through blurrily, in exhaustion. Everything so much more low key compared to Prom, everything seemed slightly less enjoyable. Everything was marred. Even upcoming Nationals seemed like a distant dream to take a grasp on, and it was like fighting to reach the surface, so he could breathe and everything wasn't so distorted.<p>

He was excited. Beyond it. But it felt strange to be.

His room was cluttered with half open bags and a couple of cases, strewn with clothes hung up over his closet doors and his drawers, a pile of once-neatly-folded ironing rumpled over the foot of his bed. Blaine sifted through clothes, knelt on the floor searching a pile beside him.

He worked in silence, lining his case with an assortment of things he assumed he'd need, Kurt sat against his pillows on his bed, quietly. Kurt had been quiet a lot the past week, and Blaine had been at a loss for words to say. They'd both lost their conversation somewhere, and neither one could attempt to pick it up. Blaine didn't need Kurt to explain though. He didn't need him to pretend to be okay- he made it known he was there for Kurt not to be, but Kurt didn't need any further pressing and they'd left it. Lost conversation and silence was sometimes comfortable with Kurt and it was an odd comfort, packing for Nationals in silence with him.

He looked up, and his eyes caught Kurt, hands fisted through one of Blaine's cardigans, holding it close. He was tiny, curled up on Blaine's bed, pressing a piece of clothing to him like a lifeline.

"Kurt?"

His head shot up, smiling, hands loosening in the cardigan.

"Yeah?" he replied, and Blaine was struck that there was nothing for him to actually ask, running through his mind for something to say.

"Um... how's packing going for you?" he asked. Kurt shrugged, still smiling.

"I'm nearly done. Just a few items in the laundry I haven't packed yet."

He turned his head away, barely focused on the packing to be done in front of him. It became a soft blur, unfocused, because Kurt was still behind him, silent but so present, running his hands through Blaine's clothes. The thought tingling up his spine.

"Are you excited for New York?" Blaine asked, voice faraway in his ears, like he was saying it under water, the task of packing the only real importance, but he was striving to turn back to Kurt.

"Yes." Kurt's voice was clear and sharp breaking through. "I've wanted to go forever. New York, Blaine. New York." Blaine turned his head, body following in a swift motion so he was facing Kurt, looking up at him from the floor. There was a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He was still fiddling with the cardigan, digging his fingers into the soft fabric. "Rachel lacks tact, though," he added with a laugh.

"What did she say?" he asked, eyebrows lowered.

"That New York is amazing and I'll have fun _anyway_," Kurt quoted her, smile a little tighter now.

"Oh," Blaine breathed, biting his lip. "She means well." And he knew she did, and Kurt nodding softly indicated he did too. But Rachel had a habit of not thinking before she spoke, so the words that she blurted out meant no harm, but could cause it nevertheless.

"She meant it well," Kurt agreed, and Blaine heard the clunk in his words, the stiffness. Heaving himself up against the edge of the bed so he was standing at the end, he got up to look across at Kurt, lips twisted and frowned.

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt shrugged, and Blaine slid to the side, picking up his pile of disarrayed clothes and throwing them off the bed. He sat on the edge tentatively, not taking his eyes off Kurt's face.

"Kurt?" he started again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kurt insisted, and his hands with the cardigan fell into his lap. "I'm being petty, that's all." He was only quiet for a moment, letting his words settle before he continued. "I just don't like being reminded. That people think that way. About me." His words turned into mumblings, short and cut off, coming out almost broken, so that Blaine nearly had to strain to catch on.

"A lot of people don't, Kurt," he tried to say in comfort, but Kurt was shaking his head, waving his hand.

"No, no, I know-"

"I don't," he finished, an air of finality to it. Kurt let his words die, and his hand fall.

"Yeah," Kurt struggled out. "I know." The stillness between them felt cold. He was distant from Kurt; he was looking at him, but Kurt's face was turned down, and there was too much space to reach across from where he sat. He shifted himself up, edging closer to Kurt, mirroring the way he sat with his legs crossed, facing him. There was still a distance between them, but Blaine didn't have to twist to see Kurt now. They were opposite. He was a whisper of a touch away.

Kurt shifted and the stillness between them went with it. They had to stop falling into these silences, the ones Blaine wasn't sure were awkward or to be enjoyed. He'd lost himself again in just enjoying that Kurt was there, with him, just to enjoy following how his fingers played in the fabric of his cardigan, or watching the expression on his face working so hard to be blank, but couldn't fully hide the quirk on his lips or the furrow of his brow.

"Can I... can I ask you something?" Kurt forced it out, stuttering only slightly but worming the words together. "And feel free to say no, if you're not comfortable with it."

His curiousness took him over, leaning in barely noticeably, pulled toward Kurt. "Sure, anything." Kurt smiled slightly at the encouragement.

He stole himself a moment, fingers loose but still through Blaine's clothing. Until his shoulders fell, no longer so tensely wrapped up.

"You know those stories about everyone being born blind until they fall in love? I've hated them, for as long as I can remember," he started and Blaine hummed in response, and something quickened in his heart, a rush of blood so fast he barely noticed as it settled in a second.

Maybe it was the way his mouth twisted around those words, or the absent way in which he said them. But it left Blaine feeling empty too.

"I've always thought it romanticises blindness," he continued. "Like, well here's a good thing- you can't see but that means you're deeper than other people." His words turned acidic as he broke off. "You can fall in love more truly than others because you only know the person, not the way they look?" He tilted his head up and he scoffed. "How lucky I am. Great to make the best of a bad situation. Says the people who can see-"

Kurt didn't sound angry. He didn't sound frustrated, or cut off, or lonely or bitter or sad. It was beyond that, and Blaine couldn't place it. Couldn't label it, other than a humming under his skin, and urge to reach out and pull Kurt closer so he didn't sound like that any more.

Kurt moved up onto his knees, edging closer until there was only a slither of space between them. "If I could see," he said, "my judge of character would be fine. I'd still like the person. I've learned to deal with being blind; it's my life. And it's fine- it really is. But I knew when I was seven what true beauty is. It's not a revelation that came to me when I lost my sight."

Blaine found himself struck dumb, his throat was dry but that wasn't the reason. Kurt's voice was hushed, a whisper between them, and holding his breath against him. He was entranced, edging to hear the rest of Kurt's words.

"I can never..." he whispered steadily, "I can never look across and see someone smile, or light catch their face the right way. I can't see a glint of happiness in their eyes, or them throwing their head back or clutching their sides as they laugh. I can't see how their hair falls into their face-" he smiled- "or comes loose from their product." Blaine smiled in return. "I can't see them falter, or trying to blink back tears. Or the colour rise in their cheeks or eyebrows creasing their foreheads. And every time someone says something along the lines of seeing deeper, learning to appreciate in spite of it, I am reminded of that."

He reached his hands across and gripped Blaine's when he found them. This was important. This meant something. There could be no locked gazes, so hands were grasped. Blaine dragged his eyes from Kurt's face to their hands, then back to his face. He had to breathe. But he was failing to remember anything past Kurt and himself. Kurt gripped a little tighter before he carried on.

"It isn't romantic. It's not something to look on the bright side of. I wish every day I could see. See my dad, see Finn, Carole and Santana. Even see how Rachel looks now. And you. I wish I could see you."

Blaine's hand loosened and he was nodding, mouth hanging open. He blinked, moisture building up that he hadn't even noticed before Kurt stopped talking.

"You want me to... describe myself to you?" Blaine choked out through the weight in his voice.

Kurt shook his head. And Blaine was lost.

"I wanted to... um... you can say no-"

"I won't," he said softly, but seriously, fastening his hands tighter around Kurt's again. "I won't." Kurt laughed, sniffing a little, then pulling his hands away.

"I would like to...um-" He raised a hand and reached it slowly to just beside Blaine's face, stopping and then pulling it back to himself. "You know." He shrugged and twisted his hands together. "But it's okay if you don't want-"

"I do." Blaine felt the words drop out of his mouth. He wanted Kurt to, he really, so very really, wanted him to. He wanted to feel Kurt's hands on him, he wanted him closer than even the breath of space between them, he wanted to lean in and kiss him and tell him his feelings, before the rippling beneath him exploded out. He should steady himself, but it was too difficult. It was overwhelmingly and painfully difficult. Two weeks before, he could have looked at Kurt and he wouldn't have felt this— and now all Kurt had to do was flash him a small, tentative smile and he was smothered.

"Really?" he checked quietly.

_God, really._

"Yes," Blaine laughed out. Kurt nodded, shifting himself up.

"Okay." He smiled, faltering slightly, to which Blaine could only guess was nerves. "Okay, could you wash your gel out?" Kurt asked slowly. "I'd just prefer it if you weren't wearing any. That's all." He smiled meekly and Blaine felt the chuckle trill from him.

"Oh...um," he laughed. "I'm not actually wearing any today. You got here earlier than I thought; I didn't have time." Kurt's smile shifted, his nose scrunching and teeth showing. Blaine loved that smile, when Kurt's urge to triumphed over the careful control of his features. He extended his hand out carefully.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Yes," he said, eyes flickering between Kurt's fingers and his face. Kurt leaned his hand in, catching the top of Blaine's ear, spreading his fingers out into his hair. His hand was soft resting there, moving up and across, pulling at the curls.

"It's so fluffy," Kurt cooed in a mock baby tone, his face scrunching up again, pulling at the curls on the top of his head, which fluffing up from Kurt's playing.

"Stop messing," Blaine chastised half heartedly, enjoying Kurt's hand in his hair far too much to care.

Kurt smiled, twisting a finger to find a curl sticking out wrapping up in it and tugging, and then shaking his hand through, winding the frizz and the curls into an even worse state.

"I hate you," he chuckled, opening his eyes to see Kurt grinning and biting down on his bottom lip. Kurt slid his hand through his hair, trail of warmth following in, embracing Blaine, until he pulled it out. Blaine immediately missed the touch, wanting so badly for Kurt to be there again.

His hand brought itself up to Blaine's chin, curling loosely so it was tucked underneath. His thumb hooked out, running softly under his chin. Blaine closed his eyes at the tickle, Kurt's fingers extending and tracing the edges of his face. The touch was a breath, up from his chin as both Kurt's hands followed a cheek, and along his hairline, then back down. A slow, brushing drag, until his fingers pressed a little more firmly and it was no longer a ghost trail but solid fingertips. It was strange; it was shaking him through bone and skin. He'd hugged Kurt, he'd danced with him, he'd kissed his temple and he'd lain in a bed with him. But none of that was as close to how he felt to him now.

Kurt's hands cupped Blaine's cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the space beside his nose. He clenched his eyes tight, but didn't squirm, though he hoped Kurt didn't mind the small spattering of blackheads that never seemed to budge no matter how much he moisturised. He didn't open his eyes as Kurt moved a hand away, the other trailing across an eyelid and eyebrow, and brushing softly across his eyelashes until he reached his nose.

He felt stiff as Kurt drew the shape of it between his forefinger and thumb, along the side of the bridge and into the grooves, until his thumb rested in the dip between his mouth and nose. Blaine held his breath. Kurt did the same with his other hand across his other eye, moving the one beneath Blaine's nose to one corner of his mouth. The other hand followed down the nose to rest at the other corner. Blaine smiled as he breathed, in spite of himself. Kurt only followed the dip and the curves as his cheeks moved with his lips, bringing his fingers back along. He hesitated, and then brushed a finger along the bottom.

Blaine's eyes shot open and his breath halted once more. He could see his reflection perfectly in the dark of Kurt's glasses. Kurt's fingers stilled, sensing Blaine tense.

"Is this okay?" he checked. And Blaine nodded. He didn't have to break his silence; Kurt could feel the movement under his fingers. He shivered as Kurt drew across his bottom lip, and across the top, which seemed more ticklish, more slow moving. Kurt would be able to feel the quick breaths whistling through the small parting between his lips against his fingers. His eyes wouldn't close; they searched Kurt's face for some shift. But it didn't. He continued, the pad of his thumb dipping into the gap between them but tugged away just as quickly, until it rested back against his cheek.

He was surprised there were so many curves and dips and contours for Kurt to trace— the ones beneath his eyes and the one on his chin, and the curl to his earlobes. He didn't know how sensitive the curve that joined to his neck was until Kurt's fingers ghosted along, down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

Blaine breathed, stuttering on it. He hadn't been able to close his eyes except to blink since Kurt had touched his lip. And he hadn't been able to take his eyes from Kurt. His lips tightened into a thin line, but Kurt smiled at him.

"Thank you," he muttered, pulling his hands away and tucking them together close to him. Blaine blinked and his breath stammered again. "Thank you," Kurt repeated, voice full and heavy. Blaine's eyes searched Kurt quickly and he leaned in.

"Thank _you_," he said back, eyes glued to Kurt's glasses. Kurt opened his mouth, and then closed it, seemingly unable to say anything in return. He tilted his head down, and Blaine saw his chest shaking before he tilted it back up.

"You're so beautiful, Blaine," he mumbled thickly. Blaine blinked again, the threatening burning back.

He opened his mouth to say it in return but all that came out was a strangled sounding laugh. Kurt's expression was blank, and he tilted his head.

"You are, Blaine," he said more clearly, with more conviction. "More than I imagined. And I imagine a lot." His lips curled but it was so sad it hurt. Blaine swallowed. He stared at his hands clasped by his stomach and steeled himself.

When he looked back at Kurt he was ready to say it back to him, but Kurt's bottom lip was tugged between his teeth, something going on Blaine couldn't add up.

"Kurt?"

Kurt breathed and pulled Blaine's hand back into his.

"They're not as bad now," he told him. "I know that. They were... apparently." He indicated his free hand to his glasses— to what was beneath and Blaine's eyes followed the movement. "But it still doesn't mean I like them on show." He shifted a little, hand still in Blaine's, but a twitch in his shoulders.

Blaine leant in further.

"You don't have to, Kurt," he said, and he meant it. He thoroughly and deeply meant it. He wanted Kurt to share everything with him, even if it happened in months or years in the future; he needed Kurt to be comfortable in sharing for himself to want it.

"I want to," Kurt insisted. "I just don't want you to think when you see them that it's ridiculous of me to wear glasses because maybe they don't look that-" He cut off as Blaine brought in his other hand so he was clasping Kurt's with both of his.

"Insecurities aren't ridiculous, Kurt," Blaine reminded him softly. "Just the people who force them on us."

He nodded, and the corner of his mouth curled very slightly. "Okay," he mumbled out.

"Okay," Blaine echoed, pulling one hand back as Kurt lifted his to the glasses, and he tugged them off, placing them beside him on the bed.

His eyes were still closed, his face so very guarded. The bags under his eyes were light, lighter than when he'd last seen them; hopefully meaning he was getting more sleep.

Blaine squeezed his hand. It looked as though he were counting to open, preparing himself. Blaine knew he couldn't dissipate those nerves with a tug on Kurt's hand, but hoped he could steady them.

And then they fluttered open, and Blaine forgot himself. Forgot there were words he was meant to be thinking or forming and actually saying. He forgot the breath that was supposed to escape and be replaced. Kurt jerked a little, darting his face in so many directions, and Blaine pressed in.

He still couldn't remember the words or the breath, both seemingly stuck between his mouth and lungs, but he felt the draw into Kurt. Cupping his hands around Kurt's face, just as Kurt had done moments before, he steadied him.

His eyes weren't scarred, they weren't odd, they weren't noticeably different. They looked off to the side, possibly because Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him, and had shifted them. They were just eyes, only bloodshot due to time spent in front of a computer screen and the lack of sleep Blaine believed Kurt dealt with. They were startlingly blue, and so wide and so open. They were fine. They were beautiful.

But they were unseeing. They were blind and they were vulnerable. And, if Blaine hadn't already not needed a reason for Kurt's glasses, it was a firmer click into place.

It didn't matter if they were beautiful and left Blaine unable to tear his own eyes away; Blaine knew the things he found the most exceptional, the most gorgeous and lovable about Kurt, other people only found them as ways to tear him down.

"You're so-" Blaine tried to start, but it was sticking. He moved his hands away, resting them on the curves between Kurt's neck and shoulders. "You're beautiful, Kurt. You're beautiful too." Fiddling with the fabric of Kurt's shirt, he swallowed. His eyes were so focused on his fingers when he turned his gaze back to Kurt's face, he saw his eyes were lightly closed and head dipped.

He searched over Kurt's face and found nothing. Kurt was nodding and he was breathing and it was the counting again, Blaine realised. To open his eyes and tilt his head back up.

It was nothing he could ever understand. To have your eyes open and still be vulnerable. He wanted to understand but, no matter how close to Kurt he became, it was never something he could just get fully. But he could try. And Kurt was right. It wasn't something to make a romantic notion out of; it was terrifying and lonely.

"Thank you," Kurt strangled out, smiling, striking Blaine. It was his smile, simple and warm but it was the first time Blaine had seen his eyes smile. They were glistening with emotion and crinkled so very softly. Blaine skipped a beat, Kurt's expression so much more raw, so much more real, so much more _Kurt_.

He leaned his hand in again until he found the curls by Blaine's ear and started tucking them behind it, as if certifying it was there, that Blaine was there. His grin grew a little wider, his eyes even crinkling further around the edges. Loosening under Kurt's touch, Blaine looked at Kurt. He scrutinised Kurt's face again and again, wondering what he was looking for, only to actually find it in a fluttering moment, his eyes still affixed to Kurt.

Kurt was entrancing. Pulling him in so deep that words and sense had been drowning with him.

Blaine had thought it would course through him, soar from his chest like a harsh rush of blood to the head that would leave him dizzy and hoarse from inevitable yelling out. That it would hit him with a force and leave his muscles aching.

It didn't. It was a soft thrumming. Or not even that. It ran through him, a soft buzz. Starting from the bottom of his stomach to pulse through his veins. It wasn't a rush of blood, just the constant flow of it. Tingling his bones and across his skin. Tickling the back of his throat with words. They came as Blaine lifted his hand up to wrap around Kurt's in his hair, still keeping him held there. They came out soft, as a laugh. They came as a _well of course_.

"I love you."

Kurt's face twitched. His smile faltered like he'd been struck and his hand tightened in Blaine's.

Blinking rapidly, Kurt pulled his hand away but Blaine caught it so they were gripped. He looked as though he couldn't physically say anything back, and Blaine's heart dropped. But he pressed on. It didn't matter if Kurt didn't return it, he just had to tell him.

"Kurt," Blaine started softly. "Kurt, I'm sorry. It's taken me so long to really figure it out." He cleared his throat a little, hoping Kurt would interject but he stayed silent. "But I do. You're beautiful and wonderful and stronger than me in so many ways. You can be so harsh and standoffish sometimes, but beneath that, your heart and determination- I wish I could be that. I wish I could. Sometimes I look at you and forget I'm meant to look away. I've never been able to. From the day we met."

Blaine swallowed and started to pull his hand away, jaw working. Kurt was still silent. Still unmoving but for his rapid blinking. Blinking Blaine realised to hold back tears, and what little sureness he had within him was flushing away.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he apologised quickly, snapping his hand fully out of Kurt's. He felt heat rise to his face, a prickling in his eyes and moved to get off the bed, but Kurt's hand followed his and was grasping it again.

"Blaine," he shook out and he looked back to Kurt's face. His hand a vice around Blaine's hand, really, really wanting to anchor him there, to not move.

So Blaine stiffened, until Kurt's lips broke into a smile just as shaky as his voice had just been and he saw his eyes again. With a soft blow, he saw Kurt had been blinking back tears of happiness and something in him loosened.

"Blaine, you idiot," he laughed out. "I love you, too."

Blaine breathed for what felt like the first time in a day, in vibrating bursts. Forcing back the moisture in his throat, he steadied himself. He looked back at Kurt, whose head was dipped once more.

"You do?" It still came out broken. He caught Kurt's lips twist.

Kurt curled his hand in Blaine's until their fingers were wrapped together, until they were pressed palm to palm and Blaine felt himself lean in. Kurt pulled his other hand to rest on Blaine's cheek, their faces level, so very close.

"Sometimes I look at _you _and forget I'm meant to look away," Kurt reiterated in a hushed voice. Blaine's laughter was shaking in itself, with relief and warmth washing over him. He pressed his forehead to Kurt's, their entwined hands trapped between them and their laughter and breaths mixed in the short space, so Blaine could feel the warmth against his lips as well as speeding through his body.

Everything stopped as Kurt felt it too, their breathing and their laughter. Blaine was sure Kurt could practically feel Blaine's heart thumping in his own chest. Blaine was a second from pulling away but Kurt closed it. He closed the space with a firm press of his lips on Blaine's and everything in him froze. His eyes fell closed and he was shocked still, lips unmoving against Kurt's for a second before his senses kicked in and he moved them.

It was so slow. Slow movement between the two of them that pushed but neither of them deepened.

They pulled away just as slowly, Blaine breathless and Kurt so very motionless. His eyes darted over Kurt's face, looking for a sign. To show it had been okay. That it was fine. Kurt's lips were parted, hardly any breath leaving him, and Blaine's mind was thoughtless, running away, leaving everything fuzzy as he leant back in.

Kurt's lips were soft and his fingers on Blaine's cheek were curling. Blaine ran a free had through the back of Kurt's head, their hands unwinding between them, Kurt's moving so he held either side of Blaine's face. It was faster, becoming frantic and Blaine gasping a little as Kurt's tongue flicked out against his bottom lip, blood pounding through him leaving him breathless. He opened his mouth with barely a thought, Kurt's hands trailing into his hair obliterating any coherent train of thought.

Kurt's tongue pressed in, a deep noise from the back of his throat vibrating from him as he did, Blaine echoing it. His mind was racing from having Kurt's mouth on his, the warmth of him being there, that it took a moment for him to realise Kurt was shaking against him.

"Kurt," he breathed against his mouth, before pulling away. "Kurt." He pulled his hands from his hair, resting them on his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Kurt laughed, it coming out in an almost gasp, rolling his eyes. Blaine's heart jumped to the base of his throat at seeing it. So very Kurt.

"Yes," he sighed in his breathlessness. "I'm just... I'm just really, really happy." He laughed again, eyes swelling with fresh tears. Blaine's lips tugged and he dipped his head, burying it in Kurt's shoulder, not caring if the position with them knelt on the bed was slightly uncomfortable.

He breathed in and laughed on exhale, "Me too." He tilted his head up so he could see Kurt's face and licked his lip before asking, "Do you want to be my boyfriend?" His voice sounded small to his ears.

Kurt's face split. Blaine mirrored him; he could feel that smile against his own mouth now if he wanted to, feel it curve into his own and tug as they kissed.

"We're going slightly backward here," Kurt pointed out, reaching his hand out and his fingers catching Blaine's wrist, tracing the tips of them over it. Blaine shifted so their fingers fastened together.

"Backward is good," Blaine mumbled, lifting his head off Kurt's shoulder. "Backward is us."

Kurt's smile was smaller and there were tears falling along the bridge of his nose.

"Backward is us," he repeated, and smiled his smile against Blaine's.

* * *

><p>AN: Blaine you make me wanna punch things.

Okay so there's only one more chapter left after this _(this isn't the end I have so many ends to tie up yikes)_. I'll probably get rambling in my note next update so I'll just say sorry that this story is one of those don't-get-together-until-the-end fics. I should have put it in the warnings. WARNING: NO SNOGGING FOR 13 CHAPTERS! But thank you to everyone who has read all of this and sends me such lovely feedback and for the favourites and alerts.

So, one more chapter where I may throw in a couple of indulgent kurtana scenes just because I can and canon is depriving me.

Thank you all!


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